Three years ago today we said “so long” to our traditional house-bound lifestyle and “ye-haw giddy-up” to our home on 8 wheels.
I can honestly say I’ve never looked back with even an inkling of remorse or regret.I can also honestly say, as in most beginnings, ignorance is bliss and either you turn the painful learning curve into wisdom or …. not.
Becoming a full-time RVer is definitely not for sissies! The learning curve is treacherous and deceptive. Just when ya think ya have it mostly figured out, ya find out ya don’t and it usually comes attached to a hefty price tag! You learn quickly to extend your comfort zone far beyond what once was considered reasonable.
Dave’s patience, figure it out and do-it-yourself skills are priceless.
Poor Willy doesn’t know if he’ll be waking up to lush green grass or up-teen miles of sharp, rocky sticker-filled desert but as long as he’s fed and his bed is close by he’s content.
Me? Well, my greatest challenge has been juggling work time with on-the-road and sightseeing time. It’s a ruthless lesson in self discipline for sure but necessity IS the Mother of invention! I’ve put in work hours long before dawn while spending the night in a Wal-Mart or Cabella’s parking lot, before working my volunteer shift at a Montana or Arizona State Park, in the shadow of snow-capped mountain ranges, surrounded by acres of farmland, on lakeshores, in forests of pines and saguaro cactus and EVERYWHERE in-between.
I can say the view from my “office” is a virtual slide show of American landscapes, literally.
I believe it’s made me acutely aware of the fact that we’re all just “traveling through” this space and time.
Those of us with Restless Souls either grow old feeling disappointed and unfulfilled or throw caution to the wind and choose to move through life instead of watching it pass us by.
No remorse. No regrets.
And yet, the most valuable lesson this year has come from the very core of my beginnings, from my Mom.
As most of you know, Mom was severely injured in a car accident the end of July while we were in Montana. We were told the best recovery scenario we could reasonably expect was for her to be able to walk 70 yards or so with the aid of a walker.
A few weeks later, daughter Jenn watched Mom take her 1st steps without a walker while she was in the rehab hospital.
A few weeks later, she set the walker in a corner, picked up a cane and never touched the walker again.
A month later, after moving to a new home in Nebraska, she told me she had set the cane in a corner to keep the walker company.
A few weeks later, she told me she spends at least 10 minutes, twice a day, working out on a stationary bicycle and her next mission was to walk a mile
Last week she called to tell me she’d walked her mile.
I wonder where my “moving through life instead of watching it pass me by” attitude comes from.
Life isn’t for sissies.
Comfort zones are meant to be shattered.
Baby Steps aren’t only for babies and Wind Walkers aren’t myths.
Just ask my Mom. If you can catch up with her.....