Ha! I bet you can guess my answer to this blog prompt!
Yep, it’s true. If I could live anywhere in the world, I would choose to live exactly where I am living now — in this tiny forgotten town, in my own house with my own yard and my own flowers, and friends that I seldom make the effort to see but know they are always there for me.
It’s taken me decades to get to this point, decades of uncertainty, sorrow, and fear of not being able to afford to live anywhere. This last is not an uncommon fear among women — even those with financial security worry about becoming a bag lady. In my case, the fear was exacerbated by the growing requirement of being able to pass a credit check when renting, and with my lack of any sort of credit rating, I simply did not know how I was going to navigate that morass. Assuming, of course, I wasn’t priced out of the market.
Exactly ten years ago today, I was feeling rootless, feeling suspended over an abyss with nothing to hang onto, worried as always about my uncertain future. At the time, I’d just returned from my cross-country trip and was staying in a fleabag motel. (Actually, it was a mosquito-bag motel. Eek.) I had no real reason to go back to that town, other than friends and dance class, but I had no place else to go. As I wrote back then: “I have looked at tiny windowless rooms scarcely larger than closets with a higher rent than the three-bedroom house Jeff and I lived in, gated communities that are merely fenced rooming houses, apartments with incredibly stringent requirements. . . . Maybe I don’t belong here in the desert. Maybe I don’t belong anywhere. But then what?”
A few years later, through a series of unexpected events, including an unasked-for email from Zillow showing me a place they said I might like though it was far from that desert town, I found my “then what.” Now here I am, living in the very house Zillow picked out for me, a house I once dreamed up.
I’m sure there are many wonderful places to live, places I might even like to live, but my days of looking beyond the perimeter of my own yard for something more are long gone. With any luck, this is where I will live out my years, with even greater luck, I might even be able to continue taking care of the place. (I still find it humorous that my goal when I got here was to have a care-free yard, and what I ended up with was a mini park that requires several hours of work each week.)
If I could tweak one tiny thing, it would be to have a wilderness walking trail nearby, but considering that I’m not as fanatical about walking as I once was (in fact, I seldom walk at all anymore), that missing trail isn’t as much of a lack as it used to be. The truth is, any outdoor time is spent in my yard. Just this morning, I went out for a quick tour to see how everything was holding up in this heat, and ended up trimming a bush, cutting back leggy yarrow, lopping the tops off New England asters to keep them from browning out, staking the tomato plant, and various other small chores.
Since I wasn’t planning on doing the work, I hadn’t doused myself with mosquito repellant, so I ended up with several new bites, but it’s all good. It’s all part of being at home in my own place, insects and all.
***
Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One
Bertram's Blog 
July 8, 2026 at 9:10 am
So happy you are content. Maybe after some time I will get used to this place also. Just not now.
July 8, 2026 at 10:41 am
I hope you will. It’s hard living somewhere you don’t really want to be.
July 8, 2026 at 11:00 am
I am thankful that I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and my health is doing okay. I simply have to adapt to having fewer friends. Today I am dog sitting my daughter’s two dogs. So the trailer is wall to wall dog. I am enjoying all my doggy friends.
July 8, 2026 at 2:06 pm
Is there any way you can make more friends? Church? Senior center? But, yes, it’s hard to adapt. I felt that way when I moved to AV to take care of my father. I went to a grief group until they kicked me out, and it wasn’t until two years later that I ended up in your dance class. In spite of having friends and dancing, I never really felt at home there. It’s nice that you have doggy friends. A lot of people find a way forward with the furry folk, so it’s a start, maybe.
July 9, 2026 at 11:51 am
I have several friends at church but I only see them once or twice a week. No one to dance with and noone to go to the gym with. many people my age don’t do those things.
July 9, 2026 at 2:28 pm
I found the same thing, that most older people don’t do physical things, but then, neither do I now that I spend so much time on my garden. I would have thought there would be more opportunity where you are since it’s a bigger place than my tiny town. Maybe someday things will come your way.
July 8, 2026 at 9:43 am
That’s exactly how I feel, Pat. I’m right where I want to be. There’s no holiday destination that appeals to me more than this, even in the cold Canadian winters, which I also love. I don’t need an escape. I love it here.
July 8, 2026 at 10:41 am
Wonderful!
July 8, 2026 at 12:39 pm
Pat, I just love this. It comforts me, as I am still debating if I stay in nyc or move to Corsica. Right now, I am still going back and forth.
Very profound post. I do not have much time to write but I am grateful for your post and beautiful pictures. Love flowers.
July 8, 2026 at 2:07 pm
Thank you for your kind words. Best wishes for you finding your way to where you want to be.
July 8, 2026 at 8:18 pm
There’s something quietly powerful about answering ‘anywhere in the world’ with ‘right here.’ After years of travel, we’ve come to think the real luxury isn’t the next destination — it’s a yard and flowers and friends who are there whether or not you make the effort. That the house itself came from a random Zillow email you’d half-dreamed into being gives me chills. And the care-free yard turning into a mini-park you happily lose hours to isn’t a flaw to fix — it sounds like the whole point. Mosquito bites and all.
July 8, 2026 at 9:08 pm
I liked my travels. I liked that I learned to feel at home wherever I was, but it’s even nicer to feel at home when one has a home to feel at home in. Thanks for your comment! It’s always nice when someone understands.