Hestia's Fire

Why I'm not selling everything and moving to Europe. Even if I am a woman of a certain age.

Photo by Rafael Leão on Unsplash

Last week, I read another essay about a woman packing up and moving to Europe. It was a well-written, honest piece, and I enjoyed it immensely, it was inspiring. But then I felt a welling up inside, a fear. I wondered why I’m not living a big, adventurous life too. I worried I was wasting valuable time.

It seems like essays like the one I just read, are everywhere. There are times when it feels like I’m the only 50+ woman on Substack who isn’t quitting my job, selling everything I own, and heading to some great adventure abroad. I wonder if I’m not doing this #cronelife right. Am I missing out because I’m not drastically changing my life?

I don’t think so. There are plenty of us out there, the Hestias of Generation X, who stay home and live rich, full lives. We keep the home fires burning, we’re just not writing about it.

There is another message that needs to be out there, and it is this; it is possible to bloom in your own backyard instead of being transplanted to an exotic locale.

This is not to say one way is better than the other. I love reading about other older women’s worldly adventures. I am in awe of their courage to follow their dreams, even if it means going across the globe to do it. I’m just not packing my bags to do it too.  

I am a homebody. When I say that I don’t mean I’m a shy introvert, I just love being at home. Over the years I curated a house that is cozy and filled with meaningful things. I have created places in my home that support me in everything I like to do-I have a large kitchen, a lovely garden, a place to read, a place to write. It’s my own little world. I don’t need to go in search of a slower pace of life or adventure because, within the boundaries of my property, I can live as slowly or as adventurously as I please.   

I have a strong sense of place. I live in a small town in Washington state. I love the weather, I love the people. When I go to my little downtown, I almost always run into someone I know. I love to host parties, meet for coffee, and talk late into the night about life, books, and even swap travel stories.

When I need adventure, I take day trips or go on vacations. I am not against traveling; I just prefer not to live for months or years out of a backpack. I like comfort too much. Some might call me a princess or maybe even a coward, but as a woman of certain age, I really don’t care. If I want to be comfortable, that’s as okay as someone else wanting to push themselves outside their comfort zone.

Just this past weekend, I tried a new restaurant, visited a lavender garden, talked to a man who created a private park for his neighbors, and had friends over to try takeout pizza that had Indian-flavored toppings like, Butter Chicken and Paneer (They were delicious.). I did all that and still got to sleep in my own bed, never traveling further than twelve miles from home the entire weekend.

And that is the flip side of the coin of being a woman of a certain age. It is worth the same, no matter which side of the coin lands when you toss it. Just be sure to spend it wisely.