Rooted and Restless: On the Search for Connection, Intimacy, and a Voice of My Own

For thirty-one years, I have loved someone with an extraordinary depth—a love that has followed him across cities, states, and seasons of life. Each move was a leap of hope, a quiet wish that the next skyline or familiar street might finally fill that elusive gap, bring that missing happiness, or rekindle a spark from the past.

I’ve been happy to do it, truly. The anticipation of new beginnings, the challenge of building a home from boxes and blank walls, the adventure of discovering new parks, coffee shops, and neighbors. But as I sit here, at the edge of yet another “this isn’t quite it” moment, I feel a swirl of emotions: loyalty, fatigue, love, and—if I’m honest—a longing for something more rooted.

We learn the lessons of our lives through others, and our children are no exception. Watching them navigate their own relationships, sometimes stumbling over the same stones we did, I see the faint echo of our own missteps. It’s a sobering realization: we pass along our strengths, but also our brokenness, often without meaning to.

And so here I am, at 62, finally feeling the contentment of roots I’ve worked so hard to cultivate. I crave connection—real, authentic friendships, a sense of belonging, the kind of intimacy that comes from being truly known and seen. I wish I could say I didn’t need it, but I do. I want to live spherically, to have a voice in my own destiny, to be part of a community that doesn’t vanish with every change of address.

I love the outdoors, the beauty of trees and architecture, the pulse of a new city. But why, after all these years, can’t I just visit and return to the life I’ve built, instead of uprooting it again and again? Why must happiness always be somewhere else, just out of reach?

At this age, I’m finally questioning: Will one more move finally deliver the joy that’s been so elusive? Or is it time to claim my own happiness, right here, among the roots I’ve planted and the connections I long to deepen?

I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this: I want a life that’s not just about chasing, but about being—present, connected, and heard. I want to belong, not just to a place, but to myself.