The Longest Stay: Saying Goodbye to Our Longest Temporary Home

As you read this we are already hitched up and on our way to Arizona, our new home for the next four weeks. As I'm writing this we are soaking in our last few days in Oceanside, CA and reflecting on our longest stay yet since becoming nomads.

Six weeks may not seem long when you are accustomed to the regular rhythm of living in one home for years, or even decades but after 1.5 years of moving every 2-3 weeks, 6 weeks feels significant, settled, and long enough to begin to call a place ours.

Six weeks in one place has allowed us to experience different and distinct phases within our temporary stay. We arrived in Oceanside a few days before Christmas and one day before the start of a significantly rainy stint. We settled in and decorated for the season; hanging stockings by the chimney with care, placing a tiny rosemary tree on our mantel and adorning our campground "patio" with sparkly decor. The following morning a drizzle reminiscent of Seattle began, setting the scene for a cozy holiday season. As the drizzle turned to torrential downpour on the following days we turned on our little fireplace, our favorite holiday baking shows and our oven, attempting to create treats worthy of eating while watching the baking show judges taste and critique each round. We had family and friends visit us during this cozy, rainy period, adding to the festive, holiday feeling.

As the holiday season came to a close, the rain did too, giving way to the bright, sunny days San Diego is famous for. The next four weeks we took full advantage of the prime walkability of our campground location. We walked to the beach and the playground, the brewery and taco stand, the market and yoga classes. Sam bought a surfboard rack for his bike and biked to the beach to surf most mornings, truly living the California dream. We went days without driving and marveled at how close we are to everything, daydreaming that if one day we were to settle down we would want to live in a neighborhood as walkable and convenient as we have experienced this last six weeks.

The return of sunshine drew everyone back outside, where neighbors soon became friends. We've shared dinners and walks to the park, hikes along new trails, and a birthday party celebration full of tacos, donuts and homemade chocolate truffles. And as always, it is the people who make a new place start to feel like home.

And yet, leaving is part of the journey. Packing up, I realize the lesson here: slow travel isn’t just about seeing more—it’s about knowing a place, feeling it, and letting it shape you for a while. Every place we leave becomes part of us, and every new place will carry traces of the homes we’ve made along the way.