I'm finding that I have a habit of characterizing different phases in my life by where I'm living. College was a handful of different houses, then there was the summer JenG and I couch surfed on my parents' couch, rode bikes, and at Nutella all day, then the Green Gillespie House, followed by the Hamilton Dump, and then our little place in CeeBee. Each one was a very distinct part of my life.
Now I'm sitting on the ground in the space that has housed us for the past two years. I'm hestitant to call it a home anymore as it's completely empty and cleaned, the walls as bare as the night we walked in. Aside from our bed and table, what little furniture we had quickly found new homes by being put out on the corner.
A CRV load of trash got taken to the dump. An 8x10 storage unit is filled to the brim. Everything I need for a day to day existence living out of the car is sitting on the back porch waiting to be loaded.
Last night as we were packing, Chris got whimsical, 'Just two years ago, we moved in here and got married. That went by quick.'
When we moved in here, I was looking for stability. I wanted to settle down. I wanted to find a place I could call 'Home' for the rest of my life. Now, as we're leaving, I'm finding myself yearning for other things. I'm excited to have pared down my day-to-day belongings to a duffle bag, a bin (which to be fair is all Tour Divide stuff), my computer (and related cords and cables), and a portable kitchen. And my -20 degree sleeping bag because nights are still cold around here.
I'm not really sure what this next phase of life is going to bring. When I come back at the end of June, after hopefully pedaling across the country, we're not sure if we're going to try to find four walls to live inside or if the thin fabric of a tent will suffice. I'm not sure if I'll be longing for hot showers or swims in Lake Irwin. I don't know if I'll want my food processor and coffee grinder back or if I'll be content to try to fish for my dinner each night. I do know this valley has been good to us and I have no intention of leaving in the immediate future.
I feel like we're on the brink. Of something. And I get a funny feeling that it's going to be something good.