Endings and Beginnings

 In the beginning of Summer, we lost our housing due to Covid. We lived in housing with five other roommates. It was pretty cramped. Losing our housing was a blessing and a catapult giving us the opportunity to finally live as nomads, something we had talked about for months before.

For almost four months, we camped through out the Northwest with our mini van and tent. I cooked meals over the campfire. I took showers in public washrooms. I got over my claustrophobia by forcing myself to sleep in the van breathing fresh air through a small window. I gazed at the stars under a light pollution free sky for the first time in years. I laughed as ground squirrels played and rolled on their backs like puppies at my feet. I envied $100,000 RVs that I could never afford. I rode on back roads for miles feeling the towns as we drove through, wondering if I could live there, knowing that I could not. Not right now. I learned that I love nature, but I prefer hotels over camping like the one in my photo above. 

Since the summer, we have evacuated from at least three of the largest mega fires ever recorded on the West Coast. All apocalyptic. All as scary as hell. The yellow-orange smoke with menacing mushroom clouds closing in on us as we raced through unfamiliar territory to safety.  

I am tired. Tired of fires. Tired of the pandemic. Tired of not finding affordable housing and a decent job.

I am excited. Excited to continue the journey to find our way home along the way. The longest I stayed in one home was ten years during my elementary school years to Junior High. Most of my life, I have moved every two years. Recently, I have moved every two or three days. 

For two months, we have lived in a lovely home with light, so much light flowing through the windows on a mountain top overlooking a valley with another mountain in the distance. It is so peaceful and quiet here. It takes us a half hour, half of that driving down the mountain, to get to the closest town with a grocery store and gas station. Most of the time is spent here on the mountain. We may go to town once a week, sometimes not that often. The next two weeks, our last two weeks, we won\’t leave for town at all. There are storms, snow projected for the next eight days, with a day or two of breaks, and back to storms until we leave after Thanksgiving. Yesterday, we shopped for provisions to last until we leave. We have so much food, I look at it all, and it\’s so much to get us through, so much food I\’ve lost my appetite.

I am hungry for snow. I hope it gets here before we leave. I\’ve never lived in it like my partner who never wants to live in a town that snows again. For me, it\’s still magical like a Charlie Brown Christmas Special. 

In two weeks, we head south to San Diego. Both of us are getting a strong feeling, a pull to make San Diego our home base, to find good jobs and settle for a while. We love the ocean, the weather (mostly in the 70s), the close proximity to Mexico (one of my favorite places to travel to), the airport that will take us to far away places when COVID is better controlled, and the opportunities for work and housing. 

I have no expectations. There are no promises. It is another adventure on a long journey that reveals itself one step at a time.

Published by As the Road Wanders

Travel Blogger and Traveler

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