It’s raining tonight.
It’s a sound that I love, the drops falling on the camper roof, a thin veil between inside and out.
The skies have been filled with heavy, autumn clouds all day, and now as daylight edges toward dusk, they are releasing the frequent rains that keep the pacific northwest so green.
It’s warm and cozy in the trailer. The fireplace is on. This afternoon I climbed onto the roof to caulk seams. I’ve never done that before but somehow I figured it out and I’ll go to sleep tonight confident that the rain will stay on the outside.
We’ve been on the road for a year, now.
Technically, the anniversary of driving away from our 1960s split level house was a few days back, but I couldn’t quite figure out what I wanted to say. Maybe my mind was still filled with the busy rush of our book release celebrations. Maybe it’s that we’ve just returned to the trailer after a month back in the Midwest and it feels like we are starting over.
I don’t miss the house in Bloomington. I don’t miss having a house at all. We made a lifetime of amazing memories in that place and those memories will always be with us, no matter where we lay our heads down at the end of the day.
We’ve stayed connected to our family, seeing them at home and on the road as we wind our way across the country. We’ve had friends join us for days of exploration and we’ve gone out of our way to rekindle old friendships that have been historically separated by miles and time zones.
We’ve learned to live more simply. A smaller space. Less stuff. More time outside.
We’ve slowed down for conversations that didn’t seem possible before.
We’ve moved frequently. 45,000 miles in the last twelve months. But we’ve settled in places long enough to sink into the community. To meet people. To hear stories. To fall in love with the places.
I’ve stopped listening to the news. I still read the headlines and a few well-researched articles, but I’ve turned away from the outrage machine because it has so little to do with the people I’ve met or the world I’ve seen. In the midst of trying times, we’ve encountered people finding creative solutions to our most challenging issues. People who are working for the common good, building community, and people who believe that something better is possible. That’s what I want to tune in to. It’s what I hope to amplify and it’s where our future lies.
A year is a long time. But a year goes quickly. We won’t live in a trailer forever. But we’re not done yet. There are more stories to tell. More places to see. More beauty. More challenge. More hope. More learning. More listening.
Grateful for this journey…and can’t wait to see what’s around the next corner.