It’s well past midnight and in a few short hours I’ll have been up nearly 24 hours, most of those spent working hard on the house in preparation for the sale tomorrow (er, today). My eyes are itching, my nose running and my throat congested from the dust we’ve stirred up, and while I should be sleeping I can’t because my husband convinced me I’d be needing some caffeine to keep me going. So, although I’m physically exhausted, I just can’t fall asleep.
We were suppose to sleep in the RV tonight for the first time, but we’re not. Instead we’re sleeping on our soon-to-be-sold mattress, bare of any sheets and with whatever blankets we hadn’t already placed in Benny’s care, too tired to retrieve. And if I’m honest with myself I must admit I’m a bit nervous to do otherwise. It’s not the RV I’m nervous about – it’s more the giant step of making it official. I’m not sure what it is about this bed, in this room, in this house that is holding onto me. But there is a small part of me that is nervous to say goodbye. So I suppose I’m hanging on a bit longer, at least until this mattress is gone and my options are whittled down to the floor.
This is it. Our things are slowing making their way out our doors and soon so shall we. We’ll leave behind the garden we worked so hard on, the dogs we love (they have been rehomed to family, so at least we’ll see them again), our home for the last five years. I’ll take one last photo of the door marked with my child’s measurements before we close it behind us for good.
I guess it’s natural for a bit of fear. Or apprehension? I’m honestly not sure anymore what this is I’m feeling. I’m so excited for the adventure and opportunities before us, but unsure what to expect.
Traveling full-time for an undetermined amount of time brings with it a certain lack of stability. Can we find a way to feel at peace on the road? Might it not be possible to feel a security that comes from within…or at least from the people we choose to travel with? These are the things I wonder at 2am.
I hope so. I hope that *we* become each others security, rather than the false sense we derive from the “sticks and stuff” we surround ourselves with.
As I look around at all our things tagged and arranged, it’s impossible for me to not feel a bit detached from it. I’m in disbelief at what begins to look like “junk” – odds and ends and sometimes, even trash; we’ve thrown out boxes of trash. Broken, ripped, or simply objects without use. How did we have so much trash in our home, hiding beneath beds, or in attics and cupboards? It’s ridiculous! It’s utterly insane to see the shit we’ve piled into this house, things we didn’t know we had or have no idea where they came from. And we didn’t even feel like we had that much!
I’ll be happy when this is over, when our connections and communications are restored and we can breath easier (quite literally *cough*) for the next week and enjoy the company of friends and family and each other. It’s hard to stay connected when you can barely think, let alone talk or collaborate. All we’ve managed is to chug along, happy just to remember to eat.
But this phase is soon to be over…and that’s when the giant question mark begins. Is it any wonder I want to sleep in my queen size bed one last time; I need a bit of familiarity while our entire lives and relationships undergo this transformation.