I got two weeks left at work and it’s twenty four days until we’re out of the house and yesterday the guy I wanted to buy the airstream from says he changed his mind and wants to keep it so now we’re scrambling a bit.
We got no home to tow!
What’s going to happen to us?
I don’t know.
And that’s just it, I think. That’s the uncomfortable place we’ve been digging for, in a way. We don’t know what’s going to happen. We lit fire to one end of the bridge we’re on and we’re hoping to get the rest of the bridge built before the flames catch up to us and we fall flaming into the abyss.
It’s so exciting!
Probably we’ll find another Airstream that fits our needs and whoever owns it will actually want to sell it to us instead of just dicking us around, and we’ll go get it and we’ll bring it back here and we’ll get it all road worthy and load it up with the eleven things we still have left and we’ll high tail it out of here as happy as clams.
But maybe not. You never can tell. And here’s where I find the nut of this whole endeavor- I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I do know that what we’re doing, what we’re embarked upon, is a path with a heart.
We’ll be doing what we want to be doing. Without knowing exactly how that’s going to pan out. What do we know? That we’ll be together. That we’ll be awake. That we’ll be attentive. That we’ll be wide open. That things we could never anticipate will befall us.
Because we’ve set fire to our past we can’t go back, we can only go forward. This is a good way to proceed if you are a nervous little poodle like me. It cuts out a lot of bad decisions I’d be maybe prone to make, and it makes me sack up a little bit, pull up my panties, and get ‘er done. I’ve learned more about accepting uncertainty and discombobulation in the past six months than I have in long while. I’m getting better at it. If I’m riding a tidal wave of whiskey on a surfboard of I don’t care, I may not be curving a bad ass bottom turn or shredding the lip, but I’m paddling like crazy and getting to my feet at least.
Or something like that.
One of the most fantastic things about all of this is my wife. She’s fucking amazing, is what. Takes it all in stride, makes it look easy. She tends to me, makes sure I’m not freaking out too bad and if I am she’ll hold a cold cloth to my head and whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I stop shaking. She’s beautiful and brilliant and so goddamn alive and I’m getting at long, long last to live my dream of spending all of my days with her.
I am a lucky man.
Even if I do end up living in a van down by the river.
Love to you all. May you find what you seek and may goodness and mercy follow you all the days of your lives.