|Superstition Mountains, Arizona|
I arrived safely back in Kansas City last evening, after two long days of driving. So, today I drove to my new apartment and spent the afternoon unloading the camper van. I took out my clothes and the art supplies. I cleaned out the fridge and pantry. Cabinet by cabinet, I emptied my temporary home, noting to myself what I had and hadn't used in my months on the road.
It was hard to keep myself moving. It's not time to unload the van yet. I was supposed to get to skip winter this year. I was supposed to spend winter in the south. I was supposed to get to be in touch with the lengthening days, and be in beautiful places to welcome spring!
I wasn't supposed to welcome spring from a sick-bed! This WAS NOT part of the plan!
I know I'll get breaks again once this detour is complete, but it's not going to be the freedom I enjoyed for the four months I was on the road. For me, for the next ten years at least, this time in the camper was a one-time shot. No just returning to the road once whatever treatment I will need is done. It's not the new job holding me back - by that time, even if I wasn't working, I'd have run out of money, and would have to look for work if I hadn't already found it. (which means the new job is excluded from tonight's pity party; I'm grateful I have it to go to once I'm feeling better...)
Most days, I've been grateful for the time I had on the road, even though that time has been cut short, but tonight it's not working. I've done a pretty good job thus far of avoiding the "why?" questions that have no answers and lead to nowhere, but that's not working so well tonight, either. Why couldn't the damned lump have waited six months? Why?