walk with me down the trail
walk with me down the trail
For two years, we lived in a tent trailer while traveling the American West. To document the kind of adventure I’d never have again, I wrote our stories.
We’ve left the RV life for now, but these weekly vignettes still explore adventure’s ups and downs, our relationship with the outdoors, the wonderful disaster of parenting, and the struggle to catch lightening in the creative bottle.
Weather Makers
In that moment, I floated like the balloon and like the clouds caught on the atmospheric interruption. In that suspension, I was within my own cloud.
The Storm We Made
I didn’t even have to close my eyes to know how similar it sounded – to feel like I was walking down a street as the storm died down. I expected to reach up and feel wet hair on my head. I expected to have to change my socks when I got home.
Limber Pine
Being bendy can mean survival in the strangest, oddest, and most difficult of circumstances. Bowing to and with the storm is the practice for hovering over that cliff and then snapping back to where you were.
The Fear and the Thin Line
And I was scared. Not the heart-pounding, I-have-to-get-out-of-here-scared, rather an intense awareness of my aloneness.