Of Gypsies and Cowboys

A pot for oatmeal. A pan for savory things and pancakes. Coffee beans, wine, and necesary equipment through which to enjoy them. Paints. A piece or two of literature. Indian curry spices. Crock pot. Seeds to begin a new garden. Camera. Clothes to last until a drastic change of season. Laptops. Dog. Pillow. Diapers and the one wearing them. Pot of lavender. Scrabble.

What would you take? If you were moving on to your next life tomorrow and could pack one car-load, what would make the trip and what would be sent away to storage or the sale pile? For me, the above is most of it. I'm sure there are a few things that will yet be added; stroller, toothpaste, strawberry plant; but really, this is about it. Truth be told, I like it.
The car is packed and the suitaces tied down on top. I'm full of wine and blue tortilla chips and sitting in the newly emptied camper. It's so clean and spacious when emptied that I can't help but think it's one fine living space. It's not difficult to jump back a week or two though and remember the intense dissaray-- yikes! But now, clean and empty, it continues to offer shelter and a teeny sense of home.

The past couple weeks have been difficult. Packing and repacking, celebrating for a brief few days that a new child was on the way...and then not, re-thinking and re-visioning and then jumping back again, cleaning and sorting and discarding all over again, working with the unexplainable ups and downs of hormones and interupted sleep and toll-booths of life. Difficult. Hm. Difficult, but not an excuse and not insurmountable. Difficult, yet rife with blessings and hope and points of understanding. Difficulty leading to strength; strength leading to joy.

Tomorrow, June 12th, we will drive away from this sweet urban plot and head up the mountain. New life part 2. Part 52! Three months ago (March 12th) I sat with two sweet lives in a purple-painted home drinking port and pie and toasting our grand adventure and our sweet fellowship. Three months before that evening J's job was snatched from him and we started to ask horrible questions of consequence leading to a stinky ol' camper and crazy conversations and painful ridicule and wonderous discovery. Six months in all. Six months and we're about to take our belongings and drive up a logging road to live in another (nicer more spacious) camper and continue this journey of life and value. Six months! Half a year! A thousand possible lifetimes.

I'm not entirely sure who all stops by at this blog but I love the opportunity to share and process through it. Thank you for sharing in this journey. May you find the community you need and the life you've always wanted.