We drove to Vermont, where we stayed a few days: frolicked in waterfalls, floated down rivers and slept under trees, before heading out to Cape Cod, a place I had always wanted to see. I ate a chilli-dog along the way.

Cape Cod was different from how I imagined it, though not in a bad way. One night we saw a fog; an eerie, misty fog.

One day, we sailed.

We watched fireworks as the sips of tiny mosquitos stung.

We ate lobster.

I enjoyed sundresses, and holding Sister Dog.

On the way back, we sat in traffic jams. Wretched traffic jams.

I looked out the window, a lot. I saw a motorcycle gang. A real, live motor cycle gang. One member had a baseball bat strapped across his handlebars. I have no pictures to show you. I was too afraid that photographing them would piss them off.

When we arrived to Georgia, my aunt cooked.

And every time I leave, I miss her all over again.

We returned home and I fussed about Mom, her being so far away. The only solution would be to bring her back here, or move down there. We’d have more support with mom down there, but I wondered if we could be both places at once. We decided living in a motor home would be a good way to find out.

So much has happened between then and now. It was too hard to unravel our life, resolve ourselves of most of our belongings and just move into a motor home. We were uncertain. We still are.

I often wonder how life would be for us now, had we just gone for it, and at times, we talk like it’s still going to happen someday.

Security is only a superstition. It does not exist in nature nor do the children of men, as a whole, experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than out right exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. ~quote by Helen Keller Found in “My Life As a Mountain Guide”, biography of Louis Whittaker. http://www.RMIGuides.com

What about you? Could you give it all up for a life on the road?