This morning, as I lay in the post sleep, pre-waking haze I knew just where I was... and it was disconcerting. Knowing immediately which state and city I am waking in has become an abnormality and I realize that I am waking before the alarm as well. An alarm I am now becoming accustomed too. Also an abnormality. These hallmarks of normalcy, that for two years have been strangers to me, are finding their way back into my life and I find us regaining our footing in the land of status quo. The most surprising piece of which is that the boys are re-assimilating into this life so much faster than Alan and I. We are out of sorts, and, like old men at a yoga class, unable to bend and twist with the same ease to contort into the positions that once came so naturally. Ironic because the life we built on the road required such mental flexibility that now routine is the hard part. It isn’t that any of it is inherently bad, just different from the life we worked so hard to create. And, I am realizing that time to mourn the loss of a life we had needs to be given real consideration and space to happen.
Daily life seems to have no appreciation for my situation. It seems to not care in the slightest that I am asking for time to process what this new position means in the grand scheme of things. Because while I attempt to ponder questions of import there are still lunches to be made, boxes to unpack and children who now WANT to ride the bus to a public school, leaving behind the lessons I so meticulously planned for them. And still the questions remain. Questions like… Is it over or is this a hiatus? If it is just a break, is that fair to kids who are back in a traditional school? Will it ever be economically feasible again? What happens to all the friendships that we made out on the road? What of plans and promises already in place? What do people do once they’ve lived their dream? And, perhaps most pressing to understand… What was the lesson not to be lost?
Two years ago, we sold everything, bought a little fifth wheel and set out on what was to be a one year adventure. I don’t regret a single second.