In this time of giving thanks, here are mine. (Lindsay)

Well, we all knew this day would come.  The time has come to wind down this amazing journey and start mapping our return to "the real world".  But before such day passes, I find myself juggling the need to hold on to some of my favorite things about this trip while becoming increasingly excited for the next phase.  And what a place to be.  Grateful for this experience while simultaneously excited for it to end is an incredible feeling. 

So let's begin:

Things I am most grateful for:

1. Time.  Time spent with Jim to be specific.  When we set out on this thing, we spent most of our time pondering whether we could stand to be in the same 60 square foot home 24/7 for more than half a year.  And in fact, not only could I stand it.  I enjoyed it.  Save for a few breakdowns including one where I yelled, "THERE IS NO LAUGHING IN KNITTING!"...and meant it...complete with big fat tears streaming down my face...we have thoroughly enjoyed this time together.  (That one just might be our funniest argument yet although I continue to feel strongly that there truly is no laughing in knitting.)  I mean how many people get this chance?  Not just to stop working and travel but to spend real and quality time with the person they love? 

In our previous life we were like most couples; spending most of our time together on the weekends, desperately trying to find time to sit at the dinner table together but out here, we not only eat dinner together every night, we eat breakfast and lunch too.  (And second breakfast...)  And to be able to share this journey with another human is such a gift.  In most of my other travels, I went alone and while I made incredible friends, it was only during reunions where I felt I was in the company of someone who truly understood the experience.  Now I get to reminisce, joke and transition with someone who remembers all the amazing memories and is feeling equally off-kilter readjusting to life.

Together.  Always together.  Literally every second.

 

2. Time with Keira.  I struggled with whether to put this one first but that would have been poor form.  But really, I know all too well the limited time we get with our pets.  I've watched (and experienced myself) as pet owners try to cope with the loss of a young pet, too aggressive for this world and those coping with the end of a beloved senior pet.  Keira is only six and I expect another ten out of her but as the owner of a purebred Golden Retriever, I know the day may come when a lump is diagnosed as cancer or, more likely for her, she decides to take on a black bear in the woods. And when that time comes, I will look back on these seven months with happiness knowing I sucked all the love out of this relationship that I could.  I've heard it said that having a pet is "like going to see a movie whose ending you already know but buy the tickets anyway."  And what a damn good movie it's been. 

 

 

3. Books, books and more books.  I'm proud to say that I have read more this year than in any year past.  (58 and counting...)  There were rainy afternoons when I plowed through two books, late nights when I couldn't put a book down no matter how tired I was and all-day discussions with the boy about books we were currently reading.  It has reaffirmed my disdain for television and while I may not be able to keep up with this pace, I can't wait to keep up the habit when we return.

 

4. The outdoors.  I consider myself a lover of nature.  I truly find solace in a day outside but in our overly comfortable and modern lives, it still felt like work to try to fit in a long day in the woods among the other responsibilities of life.   In the past seven months, I've spent a portion of almost everyday outside exploring trails and it is such a gift.  In fact, I'm now such a pro at day-hiking that it's become too easy and I'm ready for the elusive backcountry when we return. 

5. Perspective.  When you remove all the normal from your life, you create an immense space for reflection and perspective.  My life wasn't horrible before this trip and I was happy but that's exactly the reason we left.  I have given myself the time and space to think about what truly makes me happy and while many of the things that existed before will exist again to meet that goal, some new ones have sprung up as well that I wouldn't have made time to contemplate when I was a workie.

6. Time with Family & Friends.  Never before have I been able to reconnect with so many people.  Loved ones, close friends, acquaintances I haven't seen in years, new babies I'm meeting for the first time, colleagues, etc.  And to arrive with a plethora of energy and stories to share to boot.  I come from a small family and am the only one to reside in New England.  To see my family makes me infinitely happy.  Friends I've reconnected with but know I likely won't see again for many years.  And that's okay.  At least I had the chance now.  In fact, with Thanksgiving around the corner, we have timed a serendipitous reunion with our very best friends and their new baby.  It is the first time I've made Thanksgiving plans seven days before the actual day and it is fabulous.  Thank you all for opening your homes and driveways for us along the way.

 And then there are the things I can't wait to have again. 

1. Jazz.  She did as requested and lived through the last seven months.  In fact, not only do I miss her.  I miss cats.  During the trip, whenever one of us would see a cat, we'd scream, "KITTY, KITTY, KITTY" and then turn into those incredibly annoying people who try to lure a trailer park cat over for a head scratch.  But back to Jazz as she is, of course, irreplaceable no matter how many kitty kitties I see on this trip.  She is one of my favorite animals on this planet and I don't say that lightly.  Her humor, affection and scowling fill me with joy.   I yearn for the day that I'm sitting on the couch, legs crossed, knitting while she purrs in my lap.  (You didn't know it but you're actually subscribing to a blog written by a 75 year old woman...)


I know she's just as excited to see us as we are to see her.

2. To be able to poop in a toilet with water again.  Well, there it is.  And all the other amenities we tossed aside.  While I'm not someone who needs an overly comfortable life, I appreciate the little things.  The ability to chop vegetables on a counter more than eight inches wide, to shower without walking a quarter mile with my shower caddy or bring quarters to the laundry room (am I in college again?) or to sit on a porch in the summer reading.

3. Community.  Community has become increasingly important to us in our old age but elusive to track down.  They say the quarter life crisis exists because college kids who are so used to a community find it hard to assimilate when they enter the real world.  Jim and I lived in Concord, NH for four years and were just starting to create a network with the help of a few organized groups in the area (track club and yoga) when we left.  Even then it was incredibly rare for us to have people over for dinner or to organize a trail run (this is partly because of our introverted nature).  We will be returning to a community in which we're both very comfortable, where old friends still live and family abounds.  We already know where we'll buy groceries and when the farmer's market is held and since we're planning to rent for 6-12 months before buying again, we won't have the responsibility of home ownership tying up our time giving us freedom to create new bonds.

4. Work!  I know, I know.  I seem to be one of those elusive people who is fortunate to love my work (most of the time).  I miss the animal welfare world.  I miss having one-pound kittens hiss and spit at me.  I even miss the feel of a dog's mouth on my arm as he flails in front of me trying to learn new manners.  I miss being around the professionals of this field debating our policies and myths.  I miss the relief on a pet owner's face when we accept their pet without judgement.  I miss being a part of something bigger, something meaningful.



Jim misses kittens in the house too.  But will deny it if asked.

So I will relish in this time of change.  A period when my brain jumps from a hilarious memory to an image of things to come so sure of my happiness I could bathe in it all day.

"Wouldn't take nothing for my journey now."
~Maya Angelou

 

But where did the blog go? (Keira)

Huh.  They used to write a lot but I haven't seen them doing this so-called "blogging" in over a month.  What the heck is that about?  Well, they don't know it but I can actually understand words other than "no" or "who's the cutest dog in the world" so since they've been lazy, I'll try to explain.


Mom is saying "leave it" in this picture.  All I hear is "take it".

Ya see, when you humans finally take a minute and leave the things you "should" do for the things you actually want to do, a transformation seems to take place.  First, there was a lot of squealing.  And I mean, a lot.  Even more than when mom used to bring home a litter of kittens.  Next came the tears.  Out of nowhere.  The house was empty, there were bags of garbage in the new camper because the dump wasn't open the day you closed and suddenly everyone was a leaky faucet.  Then I watched as they tried to relax.  It was a bit odd at first, always checking their phones, scared to leave email but after a few weeks, everything seemed to fall into a rhythm and the real fun began.


Me not checking my email.

"Real fun" defined as that ecstatic period when everything is novel, disasters are hilarious and life is amazing.  This lasts about two months before routine falls into place.  Now, routine gets a bad rap but let me tell you, I love a good routine as much as the next dog.  Morning run, breakfast, nap, bark at squirrels, chew on shark toy, dinner, cuddling and sleep.  So around August and September, mom and dad fell into the routine.  Now pros at the whole roadtrip thing, this was just life and oh, was it good.  Mom calls it the "sweet spot".  Far enough away from the responsibilities they left behind and far enough away from the ones coming.  Each day just blending into the next. 


Me in my sweet spot.  Taking what life gives me.

But then October rolled around and discussions were had about when the trip might end and the closer they look, the more it seems we might be home for Christmas (which is great for me because it means I'll get more presents).  They say they're not quite ready to end the trip but are getting there.  They miss "home" and fantasize about walking to a kitchen instead of sleeping in one.  But they also know this will end too soon even if it feels right and they are soaking in the freedom that this voyage has bestowed.  To be sure, I'd like a home again someday too although I hear rumors the cat will be returning. 


"The Cat"

So while they sort out this new transition between the excitement of returning home with the excitement of the everyday, the trip has been hard to put into words.  Dad says he'll write up his TPS report soon so people actually know where we went and mom has big plans to do a lot of data gathering and issue summaries at the end but in the meantime, just assume they're having a blast in some amazing place too tired from long hikes and too far away from waves of internet to update this blog. 

 

The 'rents ya know, in Zion National Park