A huge shout out to a person no longer in my life, and her partner, for providing material for this blog.
This topic has only arisen a couple of times since I began my Odyssey of Love, and I addressed it then, and will now. Possibly laying it to rest, now and forever. Amen.
*I do not write this with angst. I simply wish to address the issue*
Recently, this person accused me of driving all around the country as if I am on vacation.
Webster’s Dictionary defines vacation as a period spent away from home or business in travel or amusement.
First of all…sigh….
Second of all…sigh followed by raised eyebrow as if to say seriously?
So…I haven’t had a sticks and bricks home since May 29, 2009 when Chuck and I sold it and went on the road together. My home, now, and since October 2013 has been my T@b trailer. My home on the road, as it were.
And this is for amusement…how? Wow. If this particular male personage defines vacation by what I’m doing, then thank you very much but I’ll pass on going on one with you! My idea of a vacation is more along the lines of a white sand beach in a warm climate, on a very comfy lounger, with a seriously good book, sipping non-alcoholic but delicious drinks with umbrellas in them. It most definitely is not my husband’s cremains sitting on the passenger seat next to me. With the flag from his memorial service next to his cremains. Living in a trailer, driving headlong into grief on a continual basis, but meeting up with so much love from those I meet on the road *except from you. No love from you. And, apparently, not even a wisp of a clue about my Odyssey, bless your heart*
Here’s the thing, folks. Or folk. Person. You know who you are. This Odyssey of Love is so not a vacation. Duh. It is my life. The same way that the life Chuck and I led on the road was not a vacation; it was how we lived. Now it is how I live. I’m doing it on a wing and a prayer because it is what I need to do. And in these last 4 years since Chuck’s death, I’ve been building a foundation that will, I say hopefully and prayerfully, take me into the next part of my life with some semblance of financial security.
I do, of course, fully realize that there are people in life, those who exist to tear others down, who cannot see beyond what they were taught to see. They do not, and cannot, envision a life lived simply, with few accumulated material possessions, a life that doesn’t conform to a narrow-eyed version of the precepts with which they were raised. Where, you know, people matter more than things and life is a continually unfolding mystery on a daily basis.
I was raised to look beyond my own vision, to look at possibilities, to use my imagination as a vehicle for what could be instead of what is. That is the very thing that allowed me to say yes to Chuck when he suggested selling it all and going out on the road together. Individually, we didn’t care to fit into the so-called norm. Together we forged a life beyond what we could see and, in the process, we found others of similar thinking, and I thank god for it.
Chuck’s death blew my world into smithereens. I took what I’d learned in our 4 years on the road, I took what I’d been taught about having imagination and vision, and I bought a trailer and stepped way outside my comfort zone, choosing to live a gypsy life. It isn’t always easy, by any means, but in my thinking, it’s no more difficult than living in an apartment somewhere. And I’ll continue living it until I’m done living it.
Vacation? Jesus, I’d love to take one.
Book one for me, won’t you?
*more response blogs, as I call them, coming soon to a computer near you*