A few days ago it dawned on me quite suddenly that within six months time I would finally be leaving Las Vegas. By that time I will be 28 years old and will have spent nearly all my life (except for a brief stint as a toddler and a handful of vacations) in this city, born and raised and never having escaped. I was so struck by elation at this thought, I was brimming with tears.
To everyone that loves Las Vegas, bless you. I’m so happy that you are where you love to be (or will hopefully be here soon?).
But Las Vegas is not for me. Not the heat, the 4 inches of rain, the lack of community resources, the billboards of half nekked woman, the smoky casinos, the dry, dead surroundings. And the only green thing (an occasional grassy yard) is more of an insult to our drought than a source of comfort.
Oh, the possibilities! The things we will see and experience. The people we will meet! The exploring of communities and landscapes and hopefully, the realization of the perfect place for us. Living in a small space, downsizing, simplifying, letting go of our attachment to “stuff” in the meantime is all exciting, exhilarating, appreciated.
Overall, I am really, truly, overwhelmingly ecstatic to be moving.
Except for this moment right now.
In this moment right now, I’m really, truly, overwhelmed by fear and sadness.
It started when I saw this photo from A Sonoma Garden and I thought to myself how beautiful it was and how great the same grape arbor would look along the side of our house in the backyard. And then I realized we wouldn’t be here long enough to watch it grow.
And that’s when it hit me. I’m not afraid to leave Las Vegas. I’m not afraid to leave behind the family and friends we love.
I’m afraid to leave my home. *My* home. The place we’ve worked so hard on, were still working hard on and have now ceased work on. The garden that is still years away from what we dreamed it would be.
I’m letting go of the dream I had of creating this place into something wonderful – an oasis in the middle of barren suburbia - and although we will have the opportunity to start over, we’ll be starting ALL over. From square one. Not debt-free as we had planned. Not starting where we are now. We’re going backwards. And after selling much of what we own, we’ll be going there with almost nothing. Liberating, yes. But depending on the state of the economy and oil prices, perhaps having so little to our name is not such a good thing.
And then there is the environmental factor. Yes, we’ll be solar powered and running on waste veggie oil which emits 50% less emissions, but we’ll still be driving around the country like tourists, eco or not. We won’t be growing our food or buying in bulk. Will our smaller lifestyle be more or less taxing on the environment than how we live now?
Not to mention this leaves out moving away from our only place of familiarity and a system of support. I have no idea how to start over without the support of family. We will – for the first time in our lives - really and truly be on our own. And have I mentioned that Zeb and I are home-bodies, creatures of habit? We like to follow our routine, we like to retreat to quiet rooms to be alone, we like privacy. How will all of that work out in a 22 foot motorhome?
I want to tap into that excitement again right now. To remember how much we are broadening our horizons, how many more ideas we’ll walk away with and knowledge we’ll accumulate. To remember that we’ve never felt like Las Vegas was our home and this is our chance to find what we feel is missing.
I realize we’ll find a place we love, a home where we can do all this and more, a community that supports our ideals. I realize we’ll be making so many more friends as we travel and eventually settle back in.
But right now I’m overwhelmed. I didn’t expect to face these things for a few more years. But now it’s finally hitting me and we haven’t even started packing. Will I be able to do this? Or are we crazy to even consider it?





