I just want him to stay with me until I can be sure he won’t turn into Norman Nothing.
I want to be sure he’ll know when he’s chickening out on himself. I want him to get to know exactly the special thing he is or else he won’t notice it when it starts to go.
I want him to stay awake and know who the phonies are, I want him to know how to holler and put up an argument, I want a little guts to show before I can let him go.
I want to be sure he sees all the wild possibilities. I want him to know it’s worth all the trouble just to give the world a little goosing when you get the chance.
And I want him to know the subtle, sneaky, important reason why he was born a human being and not a chair.
- A Thousand Clowns, Murray trying to explain why he hasn’t put his nephew in school yet
Born a Human Being, Not a Chair
The Carousel of Leaving
I feel like I’ve been here before, this familiar but different place. It’s transition, known and unknown to us.
We’ve already said our goodbyes a year ago, but only for the year. It was difficult but exciting. And now we’re embarking for the last time and with no plans for return. And it’s not exactly difficult but the excitement is not quite the same.
There’s no fanfare, no newness to our departure this time. And yet this time it feels more like goodbye to us.
Just a few weeks ago I recorded my grandparent’s talking about their childhood, how they met and their life together. And then last night, as we joined them for dinner, I saw time fold upon itself as their past and the present showed itself to me as one carousel.
I saw Justin and I sitting across the table from our own grandchildren, looking back on our own life and all we created. I saw how quickly the seasons go round and thought thoughts that break my heart.
We’re tying up the loose ends now, packing our bicycles on the back of our new home, sending off for new birth certificates that will arrive after we are gone, receiving driving lessons from the people we love and spending our last moments with parents and grandparents.
Yes, we’ve been here before, but this is different.
I feel as though I’m moving round and round, up and down as I realize my dizzying lack of focus or productivity is really my own dragging feet and attempt at distraction, torn between the road ahead and the pain of saying goodbye again and possibly really meaning it this time.
This is life; changing, yet cyclical. Dizzying unless you take the time to really notice what passes by.
Interesting Detours (Are Covered in Paint)
I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. – Douglas Adams
We had every intention of getting back on the road by January 1st. The deadline seems ridiculously funny now that we’re two months behind schedule and covered in paint.
Despite knowing better, I still love setting unrealistic goals. Like T.S. Eliot says, “Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”
I want to push myself. I want to do things others think aren’t possible.
As a family, as a couple and as three individuals, we set some pretty grandiose goals. The three of us, individually and together, work our asses off to build businesses, to travel or work on our own terms, to pwn noobs.
We know what we want (and sometimes we don’t) and we go after it.
But if there’s one thing the last five months have taught me, it’s this:
Establishing goals is all right if you don’t let them deprive you of interesting detours. – Doug Larson
Life offers many interesting detours. And I want to take them.
Because although I love grandiose goals, there are no promises. It’s not about what we might experience someday. It’s about what we’re experiencing now.
Even covered in paint today, 8 weeks behind our goals and achy from the awkward positions one must put themselves in to paint around an RV slideout…we can still take time to dance to The Beach Boys and Steve Miller Band, to chat with friends, have lunch with family and attack each other with paint.
Because this is it. Despite all our goals, I know we already have what we want at our fingertips. Or all over our fingertips, as the case may be.















