Day 1 About the land I wander, all forlorn

I've been wandering since I retired in 2017, almost 8 years. I tell people I'm an international pet sitter. Many people wonder, Where are you now? That's a simple question, with a quick easy answer. I am where I am. It's less easy to say where I'm going next, or why.  It's even harder to understand the point of all this wandering. I say, 3 years of being a nomad prepared me for 8 months of solitude during COVID. But that isn't a point, that's an unexpected result. Mom asks, Are you still living the wonderful K-life (her version of the Life of Reilly.) Yes, I say, wondering if aimlessness could be a purpose, a wonderful goal. P demands, When are you coming home? I flounder through a reply, but leave the crucial question unanswered: where is home?

In fact, to all of this I have no answer. There is no plan. There is no goal. I'm a nomad, I say. My official residence is in New Mexico. I'm retired. I don't know where I'll be next. I'm not really sure where I am now. My travel blanket is almost 9 months completed, but I ran out of the grey-green yarn that records my stay with E in B and substituted a darker green. Now nothing is definite, the record is mixed up, and my certitude with it.

In November I was packing for a 6-month wander, from NM to PDX to IL to SC to FL, to Tromso to Oslo to London, back to SC, then full circle to NM via IL From autumn, to winter, to spring. From the high desert to the mountains to the ocean to the prairies, to the barrier islands to the fjords. From a country of live oaks and Spanish moss, to the Arctic tundra and the Northern Lights, to the rainy London streets. By plane, train, bus and automobile. Even a short jaunt on a boat. I needed to pack rain gear, cleats, hats, gloves, shorts, swimming suit, sweaters...

H said, that's some graduate-level packing.  P said, this is giving me hives. I pondered....Do I have boots in IL that will work in Norway? Do I have a winter coat in PDX? should I pack a walking stick? B suggested I take a picture of what I have in each location.  I've scattered belongings across the US, marking my territory, leaving my scent. Could anyone track me? Can I keep track of myself?

B texts me: 
Washing your laundry.  

Just last week you left by train. 

Strands of hair remain.