The culmination of the triad was conceived 2 years ago, and the plan naturally included an extended farewell to the east coast, including the last trip to Maine; the last Red Sox game; the last May Morning party; the last NYC outing, including the Metropolitan Opera; and a host of BSO dates in both Boston and Tanglewood. The plan was not perfectly executed–we have never been to Nantucket, and we did not have a final visit to the Gardner Museum (closed for a private event the day we tried).

The centerpiece activity is–will be–the Traditional Music and Dance week at Pinewoods Camp August 27 to September 2. In our pre-progeny days we went every year for at least one week. Adult-only (there are family sessions) weeks at PC are a blast, with nearly 24-7 workshops, jams, singalongs, social dances, presentations, parties, and more parties in a tranquil, woodland setting. Or you can choose to swim, boat, read, sleep, practice, whatever appeals. Cars stay parked the entire time. Someone else cooks (though campers do have minor chores). Lodging includes walls, beds, and plumbing.

We chose our session on its merits, without considering what an inauspicious time the last week of August is for closing real estate deals. Making choices out of context leads to unintended consequences, in our case, a nomadic period. The east coast house is sold, and the west coast condo is purchased, but we can’t move yet because we are waiting to go to Pinewoods.

As nomads, we are trying to live lightly in our host homes, to bring as many of our own supplies as we can, to eat out, to work at the office or in the library. The hardest part is to manage without the items that one simply has in one’s home, items we are reluctant to cadge. Now I notice when I need a bandage, a Post-it, a cheese grater, a scanner, a tissue, a sharp knife, a Sharpie, a sun hat, a battery, salt, a postage stamp, a bookmark, matches, a backscratcher, dress shoes, an umbrella, a screwdriver, a picnic blanket, a myriad of items one rarely thinks about because one always has them at hand.

We did not manage to pack all of these items.

A home, I now realize, is a vast repository, sort of a personal Amazon-like mini-warehouse.