It sure has been a while since I’ve written anything for this space. This last year of travel has been very rich in experience, full of laughs and personal happiness. Having met someone to travel with has enriched my life in ways this person may never know. I don’t care that he’s super talented in carpentry, electric; wait, everything…and that he can help me convert my skoolie. Those things DO mean SOMETHING, except at the core of it all, what I care about how he has treated me with respect and care, ten thousand fold over anything I’ve experienced before. He is an excellent provider, he creates a strong sense of security for me, not only while camping and driving, but also from any unwanted attention. He is an excellent cook, extremely patient with me, funny, witty, and in my opinion, quite charming. One of the problems is, he’d mostly rather just be alone.
I have spent a lot of time alone, years in my old sticks and bricks, and months at a time out on the road. With confidence, I can say I thoroughly prefer to at least have someone around and I love having someone to share with. Food, thoughts, concerns, moments. To me it makes life richer, makes me feel more alive – although don’t skew my words and think that is the only way I feel alive! The days we camp in far off places, where there is nowhere to go or do, having someone to share it with makes me feel more that the day, including myself, actually existed. It sounds crazy and needy, but the moments shared versus moments alone are just so much richer, also giving opportunity to revisit the moments via conversations with others or among ourselves. I remember and cherish those shared moments in my life, when oddly, as I sit here writing this, only a select few memories that were made while alone, are creating a joyful spark within the walls of my memory bank.
Something that saddens me about being alone is I love to cook and feed others; it gives me deep satisfaction knowing I created a meal that has lit up someone’s taste buds, something that I definitely inherited from my mother. Sadly, my diet sans human companionship has historically been popcorn and beer. Part of me is guessing that I just enjoy, in a way, someone to take care of. After being a single mom of a now grown human and dedicating most of the hours my life to veterinary medicine, all I know is how to take care of living things. That has been my life and possibly the source of my fairly recent quest to avoid being alone in life. Or is it that I am getting older and my desires in life are changing.
Minimal vagabond 