The (55-MPH) Race Against Time

I've been thinking a lot about time lately. How there's never enough of it. How it passes slowly and in a blink all at once. How to make the most of it. You know, all that existential dread kinda stuff we humans are prone to letting sneak in. Life on the road has manipulated time— anyone living it knows it's so disorienting! (What day of the week is it? What month is it?! What season are we in?! Who am I?! What are we?!!! Ok, done.) Imagine your home stays the same, but your view changes regularly. Drastically. And maybe you've been to three different places in one week, perhaps even three different states. And suddenly, the driving distances you saved for a legitimate road trip become the kind of distances you drive just for a there-and-back afternoon exploration.

Further disorienting, we can chase the sun as long as Starlink is in tow. While big swaths of the country are getting out sweaters and boots, we're still in the thick of a neverending summer. It's a good thing because we each have ONE sweater. (I do, however, have several pairs of boots. How else should a girl delineate her Target tanks and leggings uniform from casual to formal? Don't be silly; of course I add some jewelry).

We spent so much of our available everything on managing a vast property with many moving parts. Pet goats, alpacas, chickens, dogs, and a cat (I think I got everybody; we don't count the mice), plus homes that needed constant maintenance (be careful falling in love with a 200-year-old farmhouse), kept us busy. You try skipping off on an adventure at a moment's notice with all those (very demanding, I might add) mouths to feed. (I know, we're morons. Let's not have children but get a menagerie of animals that ties us down. Brilliant. At least we didn't have to worry about school districts and saving for college.) 

Now that we have the time back from those particular demands, we can reallocate and do things like sit under the moon and stars every night. (We haven't had rain in over three months!) For the first time in my forty-excuse-me-I'm-taking-a-sip-of-water years, I've seen the moon in real life every night through a complete lunation (I totally had to look that up and will be adding to my vocabulary), something I had only seen in an infographic before. It's been such a wonder and a joy. (Colan wishes I'd stop gushing about it, as he's more of a been-there-done-that kind of person.) Seriously, steal a moment outside under the sky whenever you can and remind yourself to look up often. It's oddly grounding. We're able to quiet down in a way we couldn't before because there were always so many chores and fires to put out in our brick-and-mortar life. (To be fair, we haven't exactly cut down on fires to put out, but you know what I mean.)

 Still, melancholy can take hold as we're trying to balance work and life, and with ever-ready adventure surrounding us, it's impossible to fit it all in. For most places we've been, we'd benefit greatly by returning and exploring more. I'm concurrently left distraught over how much I'm missing, left wanting more, overwhelmed, and in awe of how much I get. It's not a bad way to experience life if you ask me.

Time is life's most valuable asset, no surprise there, and I certainly don't know how to make more of it. (Can someone get on that, please?) But, fretting about time is just a waste of, you guessed it— time, and ain't nobody got time for that. So get out there and roam, experience, and do. This world, with its people and places, is infinite, and I plan to go to the grave with some serious stories to tell. I hope you do, too! (But not anytime soon, thank you very much.)

Hope to see you out there! -CL