No More Camping

The other day, my friend, Kat, and I were talking on Skype, and she mentioned that she had plans to go camping, which she hadn't done since, like, 2005. I told her that I hadn't been camping since that year...or maybe even before that. It has been so long.

But, today, it occurred to me that I have kind of felt like I have been camping since we moved to Belgium. I'm not talking about the middle-of-the-woods type of camping, where you fetch your wood and pray that no wild animals will attack you or steal your food while you're sleeping. I'm talking about the camping that I have always done. It may have been in a camper or, at the least, a tent, and it most assuredly involved, at the minimum, a Port-a-potty. This kind of camping brought with it fridges...or, at least, fully stocked coolers. And...it was fun, because I was on vacation.

But, I'm not on vacation right now. I'm living here. And I don't want to feel like I'm on vacation while I live in my house. Today, after waking up from my very own bed...after sleeping on a PILLOW....and not a "fake" pillow made out of a towel.... Today, after walking downstairs only to find my furniture....and not the rental IKEA furniture.... Today, after eating from my own plates....and not thinking that I needed to take extra care of them, because they belong to someone else, I realized that I have not been at home up until this point. I was "camping." This was just a campsite that I was using. But, now, I see all of my things here. They were in the U.S., and now they're here. Since they are here, I can be more at ease. Now this can become my "home."