I Miss Her

I've had several conversations recently about my camper van trip, already seven years in the past. When we talk, they say, 'I loved to read your blog'. Past tense. When I tell them I'm still writing it, they say, 'I know, but it's not as fun anymore, so I don't look at it as often.'

I'd take umbrage at the statements if they weren't true.

It's not as fun any more.
I'm not as fun any more.

I miss her - the woman who was adventurous and free. She who threw all the cards in the air and took off to see if she could find where the road went. She who trusted the Universe she would land safely when her adventure was done.

Me? I'm back to my former responsible self. Chomping at the bit, yes, but leaning dutifully into the harness, pulling the weight of the wagon slowly forward. Busy looking at the ground and the road just ahead instead of watching the sky and the horizon.

The excitement is gone from my life - no wonder it's gone from my writing. My account of building a cabinet just doesn't have the verve of my tale of climbing the remains of an ancient Arcadia Park mountain on a rainy October afternoon. How can the story of my drought-stricken flower garden possibly measure up against the one about pulling up to a campground along the Appalachian Trail, and choosing a campsite based on the number of deer browsing in it?  (I seem to remember there were either five or six of them.)

I miss her. I really miss her.

Most days, these days, I think I've gone too far past the detour sign to ever find the old road again. I haven't given up the dream entirely, but it's fading; a trail petering out into the nothing of an unremarkable back field.

But then, I remind myself, boring has its up side. Boring means no drama. Boring means the bills are getting paid, the car runs, the roof doesn't leak. Boring means my remaining body parts are still functioning normally, that my aches and pains are just the normal ones of getting older.

My story may be boring, but at least it continues - and I find enough words most weeks to fill a page with my musings. And there are at least a few people left who find the words worth reading, which makes the time needed to gather them into some semblance of order and put them out into the ether worthwhile.

So, to those reading this page, thank you. Thank you for sticking with me, even though it's not so fun at the moment. Because it's still worthwhile. And, maybe, one day, I'll get back in touch with her.

I hope.
because I'm pretty sure she misses me, too.