One Year Later, or Freedom Run 2020

  Excerpt from “A Cowboy’s Prayer” ~ Badger Clark

“I know that others find You in the light
    That’s sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
    In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
    That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I’m no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
    Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
Just let me live my life as I’ve begun
    And give me work that’s open to the sky;
Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
    And I won’t ask a life that’s soft or high.
Let me be easy on the man that’s down;
    Let me be square and generous with all.
I’m careless sometimes, Lord, when I’m in town,
    But never let ‘em say I’m mean or small!” 

I could say that I’ve been waiting for this – this lifestyle, this never-ending road trip, this place in my life – for five years. The truth is, I’ve been waiting to take this journey my entire life. Freedom Run (as Mister and I have named it) is, in fact, my ultimate act of rebellion – certainly not against my parents, but against expectation. 

Expectation dictates that we stay put, that we establish roots, that we build “a place to come home to” as the saying goes. Of my parents’ four children, I was always the one least likely to sit still. As an adult, I’ve taken that trait to a whole new level. Since Mister and I married, we’ve had five different homes. Our Class A is currently the sixth. “Vagabonds! Can’t you two just stay in one place?” my father often exclaimed. Apparently not. All the packing, moving, unpacking we did acted as a herald to our current lifestyle. Funny, I always used to lament the packing and unpacking. “Ugh! I wish we could just move the house as is, or at least move into a place that’s already set up!” Ask and you shall receive, eh? 

Honestly, we were never going to stay put. My father passed a few months before Mister and I made the move into our rig, and I can only imagine what he would have said…”[deep sigh] You guys! Well, as long as you’re happy.” 

And that is the point. We are ridiculously happy. I am ridiculously (though not unexpectedly) happy. The places we’ve been, the experiences we’ve had, the people we’ve met are all almost indescribable. I regularly post pictures on social media of our adventures and escapades. Those pictures and posts in no way, however, do justice to reality. Every leg of the journey, every stop, every expedition is a first time through the Magic Kingdom gate experience. 

Now, I would be lying if I said it’s everything I expected – it’s so much more. I’d also be lying if I said it’s all been absolutely carefree. The learning curve is huge, “don’t get confused,” as Mister likes to say. And we have made our fair share of mistakes. Still, the mistakes we’ve made are akin to those anyone would make in a new home, in a new environment. Expensive? A couple. Time consuming? Yes. Inconvenient? Aren’t all missteps? Bottom line, we learn, we grow, we (literally and figuratively) move on. And while this lifestyle is not for everybody, it’s suitable for more folks than we realized, and it’s a hand in glove fit for us.

Six months ago my self-reflective list was all about learning how to live in and maneuver our rig while surrounding ourselves with like-minded folks. Now, it’s about the journey. We spent the month of August in a small town south of Pittsburgh. Our next door neighbors, Jeff and Jo, were incredible. Friendly and welcoming, they mentored us for 30 days, imparting upon us their wisdom and the benefit of their experience. We soaked it all up like brand new, thirsty sponges – the ones with the rough edges used to scrub the gunk off pots and pans. One night, while sitting around a socially distanced campfire (more of that in another post for another day) I asked a question about the whole “camping experience,” With a chuckle, Jeff corrected me. “This is not camping,” he said. “It’s a way of life; it’s an adventure.” Truer words were never spoken. 

Since August, Mister and I have traveled 2,550 miles. We’ve met countless like minds, encountered wildlife we’d previously only seen on programs narrated by David Attenborough, and relived the history that inspired national monuments. We’ve walked where thousands upon thousands have walked before, and we heard their voices whispering in the trees and listened to their song in the flowing waters of our country’s natural treasures. We’ve taken more pictures than our iPhones can hold and, to quote a cheesy song from the 70s, we’ve only just begun.

And somewhere along the way we ran across Badger Clark’s prayer…and we understood.