Defining home

I hate Catch-22 situations.

I'm doing my absolute best to fit into Little Country Town right now. Making friends, using the town facilities, getting to know the locals, etc. And as I'm finding my place here, the town is getting in under my skin too. I've started to think of it as home, to know its streets, to recognise its quirks, and to feel a deep sense of satisfaction as I drive up the final 5km into town and catch the first glimpse of the huge wheat bins from the crest of a hill. It's settling in on me as I'm settling in, and it's great to feel so at home and so satisfied in a place I've adopted.

BUT. This is a problem. There's not the slightest guarantee that I'll be able to stay here next year. My position here is permanent and I have the job as long as I want, but if S can't get a job in one of the surrounding towns I'll have to apply for a transfer and it'll be time to move on. And I don't want to. I could happily stay here, it has everything I need, and if life was simple I'd just say to the world, "done, this is my place now, I'll stop here thanks". But I know that in the long run that's not going to happen anyway - once there's kids involved S and I will want to be within an easier drive of both our parents' houses (and in fact we've already picked out the one place that is equidistant between our parents' homes and acceptable to both of us, and that's where we'll try to live in a few years' time). Until then, though, I'd really like to stay here, and I know it won't happen, unless we're spectacularly lucky.

So I'm walking a fine line between getting involved and attached enough that my experience here is meaningful and fulfilling, but remaining just distant enough that I won't be breaking my heart when I leave the town. And that's a very fine line indeed.