November 2019 marked the sixth month that hubby and I had lived in our motorhome full-time. I must admit that, as I watched the weather change outside our window and prepared for the holidays, time passed much more quickly than I’d imagined. Before I knew it, I was boxing up Christmas and preparing for the journey ahead. Ever grateful for the time to adjust to living compact, I felt confident in my ability to travel down the road and to handle whatever obstacles crossed my path.
Once our house was sold and we settled in an apartment, we became ultra-focused on purchasing a rig. No longer bound to a sticks-and-bricks property, we quickly turned our attention toward reliability, power, style, and comfort. Yes, we have at times been described as spoiled, but we were looking for a full-time, long-term home, not just a weekend or once-a-month fling.
The decision, in late 2017, to sell everything, move into a motorhome, and travel full-time was not an easy one for me…initially. Having grown up in an era where grandparents retired and hosted throngs of family members, children, and grandchildren and cooked up and served those delectable dishes that only Grandma knew how to make, I was all for maintaining a homestead, ready-made to be filled with treasured memories. There was only one problem. Our entire family – parents, children and grandchildren, siblings, cousins – were all scattered across the country. Sure, we had family and friends come stay with us from time to time, but we were mostly traveling to see them.
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