Monday, November 14, 2011

Indie Travel - Home

I'm not thinking much about home these days. This trip is now into it's 6th week. Hard to believe. Seems so much longer than that. I guess when you are forced to pay attention every second, keep alert, remember every new encounter's name (if possible), keep car doors locked, keep everything in it's place cause there's only one of each thing. The few left-behind things get balanced with gifts from the universe that come in handy.

Right this moment, home in in my van. My Tent on Wheels is now fancifully outfitted with a GPS purchased yesterday, which paid for itself the first 20 minutes by finding a way out of the shopping mall and around all kinds of construction. Then it led to the campground north of DC where the night was spent next to a freeway, heard but unseen in beautiful thick hardwood forest, still in the throes of autumnal change.

When my almost 21 year old son was about 8, we were on a trip, staying in a hotel in Alamogordo, NM. We'd gone out to dinner and then to a mall. I told him it was time to go home now and he sorta freaked out. "Mom, we're on a trip! We can't go home. Don't you remember we're staying in a hotel?" In that moment I realized that home is where I am, where WE are. Home is where the people you care most about are. It can be a place, but even though I own property, that place is not necessarily home.

It feels strange to have my home in a vehicle that bears no resemblance to a house. The bed is a foam piece on the floor, the kitchen is in a plastic box with a lid that has to be repacked every time it's used, there is no bathroom. Clothing is in a cardboard box and food storage is in sacks and a couple of small coolers. There is no companionship but with myself. Yet there is music and warmth, safety and beauty. Every morning there is a new view of the world, and for right now, it's home.

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