Last Sunday, a good dosing of rain tamped down some of the snow we’ve accumulated over the past couple of weeks. Right after the rain, there was a howling windstorm that tore up pine trees and ushered in more frigid temps. The snow turned bullet proof. Where it’s been highly buffed by wind, it’s also slippery. Like, trying to run on bowling balls in your stockinged feet slippery. My dogs, however, have no problem on this temporary tundra. With assuredness and no acknowledgment of the bitter cold, they roam the golf course threatening Canadian geese, tracking smells from the night before and generally looking like they’ve never been more at home in some of the worst conditions in recent memory. Over dozens of decades, my Labradors, were quite literally made for days like this.

What was I made for, where do I belong? My first memories involve growing up on a cul de sac in 1970s Westport, CT, some days, I ride my bike past my old house but today as back then, I don’t feel any real affinity to the place. There are some memories, a few of them are good. From there, my Dad took us to Waterloo, Belgium for six years. Not knowing the language, I always felt like an outsider. Though as an adult, I feel pretty comfortable in Europe. Now, I live in Fairfield County. I don’t belong here and I wouldn’t live here if my good job did not require it. Back in the ’89-’90 season, I moved out to Aspen bussed tables, painted houses and drove a limo van. It paid for a skiing habit. There were many days there that I felt at home, to this day, I love Colorado.

For a couple of years, I’ve thought about moving to Bentonville, Arkansas. For the uninitiated, it’s more than just the hometown of Walmart, it’s the mountain bike capital of America and it’s got a shit town of gravel too. There was a job opportunity I could handle and while the money wasn’t great, I liked the idea of being around like-minded athletes. But, I’m almost 60. Am I really the demo that’s going down there to ride bikes? Being proactive, I called a travel agent I’d watched on YouTube and we talked about the region’s fast growth, booming home prices and limited number of antique listings, I’m not sure it’s for me.

Last week, I had a conversation with my boss and we put an end date on my career with NBC. For most of the past 17 years, this was my work home and most of the time, I felt like I belonged. But that’s coming to an end, I’ll have to figure something else out in the months ahead.

It’s occurred to me that where I feel I most belong is somewhere in between things. Somewhere that I don’t have to commit to, somewhere that’s always just short of somewhere else. I kind of hope this is not true but I gotta think about it.