We got home in early April, exhausted and filled with a lot of memories; mostly good. The idea of a nomad lifestyle has its attractions, yet the idea of seeing our home again was heartwarming. There's something about going home that makes you feel secure, safe...
...yet...
The idea of seeing so many beautiful places in America is intoxicating. It's to the point of an addiction where you always need more, the next fix. But it's not your home. Home is where you park?
My mother had a bad heart. A calcified aortic valve that eventually claimed her. as time stops for no one, the ongoing medical issues she suffered made my sister and I worry that she wasn't able to care for herself anymore. House curtains drawn, no real assistance when and if she needed it, her house, the house we grew up in had transformed into a place we didn't want to visit. It was very different from what it was like growing up. It was a cracker box of a place, but it was full of life, a vibrancy based on the personalities of parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and the myriad friends that all of us had. Home had changed and didn't retain the feelings it once had.
It took a while, but we persuaded our mother to move to an assisted living center. Although it was at this place was her last to live in, it was far and away from the somber one she had left behind. And that was the center of of her thoughts, she didn't want to leave the place where so many things... she didn't want to leave "home" behind. I argued that home is wherever she was, as memories are portable. While she couldn't walk into a room and say, this is where this happened, she could just as easily talk about it.
Julie and I had been having similar conversations about our home in Manchester. We built it together. We hosted family and friends a lot and one of our last holiday celebrations included 30+ people under our roof. Always fun and always memorable, those memories were with us in Georgetown last year while celebrating Thanksgiving. Those conversations centered om living in the RV full time. Yeah, selling the house and leaving NH to go see the country.
So after we stored the Puffin, we boarded a plane to head to Oregon for Julie's niece's wedding. It was a fun time and we were glad to be there. My brother and sister -in-law rented a beautiful lakeside home and it was our home during the time we spent with them. We had some free time to explore and took advantage of it by going to Smith Mountains and Crater Lake. Stunning doesn't capture the beauty we witnessed. On our flight headed back to New England, Julie turned to me and said, screw it, let's do it.
As I sit here typing this, a lot has happened. We have sold our home and pass papers on July 31st. We placed an order for a new fifth wheel and diesel dually. I'm busy thinning the house, selling, donating, storing things. And like our maiden journey, this too has come with challenges and challenging times. There is a sadness attached to selling this place; it has been witness to a lot of joy and some sadness. We made it our own, reflecting moods and likes. Yet those memories are portable and my daughters can find home where the Puffin II is parked.
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