My restlessness this morning took me to Pineridge Nature Area to joined up with the meadowlarks, Canada Geese, barking prairie dogs, a perched hawk, again. I pretty much had the area to myself. I’m not sure restless is the word or not but that’s what I’m going with. Seems I have been a restless person for many years. Why? I ask myself that simple question a lot. I remember the awareness I had the first time I grabbed my backpack, headed out the door and realized I had no particular place in mind. I was just wanting to go. I journaled about this almost nomadic impulse this morning. I feel much of my seven years working as a flight attendant was rooted in a form of nomadic life, as almost each night was a different city.
For many years my daydreams have revolved around traveling in a small RV, solo. My parents spent a few years living as snowbirds as did sister and brother-in-law. They all enjoyed it. Yet, what I’m speaking about is living nomadically, no home to return to after a couple months on the road. It would be home. However, I am not in a good financial position to live the nomadic life in a class B van. It would require selling my condo, purchasing a used RV and investing the balance of my home equity. Am I willing to take such a risk? Just throwing some thoughts out there.