Reality, Recalculating
When the Open Road Hits a Red Light
When we sold our house, our furniture, and that collection of mismatched Tupperware that had somehow survived every garage purge since 1999, we thought we were doing the big brave thing: hitting the road. One truck and 5th wheel trailer (affectionately called The Mothership), our autistic son, one overachieving service dog named Ollie, and two mid-life dreamers setting out to find adventure beyond the beige walls of suburbia.
Spoiler alert: we haven’t gotten far.. yet.
Not for lack of trying. We had the maps, the meticulously packed storage units, and a Pinterest board full of “nomad life hacks” we were 30% confident we could actually use. But as it turns out, life doesn’t care about your Google Maps route. Life laughs—politely, of course—and hands you a wedding invitation, a doctor’s referral, a funeral service, and a text from your daughter in East Asia saying, “Hey, I think I might’ve adopted a goat.”
So here we are. Between the rapidly-booming small town and our hometown we planned to wave goodbye to (for now). We did sell the house and move into the Mothership, but it’s not under the star-filled skies we’re chasing. We’re still here but getting to spend more consecutive time around our family than we have in years, like twenty.
But let me tell you something: being “here” isn’t a consolation prize. It’s just a reminder that before you can chase the horizon, you need to be there for all the people that have been there for you for years.
Our oldest son is getting married—yes, the same kid who once duct-taped Pop-Tarts to the ceiling. Watching them plan a future has been its own kind of journey. One that doesn’t involve campgrounds, but does involve a lot of love, deep breaths, and an Excel spreadsheet that could easily run a small government.
Meanwhile, our oldest daughter is on short-term mission trip abroad, where she is wrestling with purpose, culture shock, and short elderly lady that might have been a luchador-type (we’re still getting the full story). We expect she will return sun-kissed, sleep-deprived, borderline self-starved and likely surprisingly calm. And as much as I wanted to pick up and go, I knew I needed to be here, standing at that airport gate, arms wide open.
In between all of this? Doctor’s appointments. Family obligations. Saying goodbye to people we love. Saying hello to people we didn’t expect to meet (including, yes, a goat—long story).
The road is still calling, but it’s more of a gentle hum than a blaring train horn. The dream isn’t dead—it’s just waiting in the wings while we finish cheering on our older Bigs as they take their next life-leaps. We can’t very well gallivant across the country preaching “live fully!” if we don’t show up for our own people doing just that.
So, for now, The Mothership waits. Ollie still has his hiking boots. AJ is still excited for what’s ahead. And Dan and I? We’re learning that sometimes the real adventure isn’t in leaving it all behind – it’s in showing up, again and again, for the people you love.
We’ll hit the road. Eventually. Probably after the honeymoon. And the next doctor visit. And the goat thing. Stay tuned.