My house went on the market yesterday. I bought it 2,296 days ago, in the tornado of action that followed my accident in Lake Washington. I changed everything after that day, my job, my home … my interests.
It was perfect for me at the time. I had moved 16 times in 30 years, and I longed to lay down some roots. To fly, but remain tethered to a single place.
Home.
But in my bones, I’m a wanderer … a gypsy. And in the last couple of years, I’ve gotten restless. I’ve yearned for a change of scenery. So, I’m shakin’ things up, and my roots are growing wheels. I’m reinvesting in a home by the water … maybe Whidbey Island; more likely Camano. More than a home; I want a retreat. I want a sanctuary. And I want a camper van.
I haven’t completely lost my mind. I have a wonderful job, where I hope to retire early, in seven years. To make the commute easier, I’ll spend my week in my camper van (a Travato) on my parents’ property, and spend weekends at whatever new home the universe plans for me. I’ll spend precious time with my family, and I’ll start laying the foundation for my retirement, which I hope includes a LOT of road time and adventure.
Last night, on the day that started this next chapter, I drove to Camano with my friend in her Travato. It felt like a glimpse in to my future. We stood on the beach serenaded by birdsong and water lapping at the shore. Just before we left the island, I rounded the corner and stood face to face with a brand-new, brightly-spotted fawn. We stood still for a moment, looking at each other, before she galloped away. It felt like a sign. A bright omen of new beginnings.
I’m ready for my next act, and I’m gonna fly. Untethered …