The Roller Coaster

January was an exciting time for me, with my first solo RV trip.

I drove from Massachusetts to Florida in my 26’ Class C RV, just me and my trusty co-pilot, Cricket. It was a great trip, and many of you followed along on my journey. I had such a great time sharing my adventures with you! I couldn’t wait to sit down and blog each night.

You may have noticed my silence since then. There’s a reason for that.

Back in December, my father got hospitalized with a heart problem. While he was there, he was told that he might have cancer.

In January, when I was visiting him in Florida, he got confirmation that it was cancer, and that he needed chemo to treat it.

In February, just as I arrived home in Massachusetts, he got hospitalized with complications from his first chemo treatment.

Before the month was over, he checked out on hospice.

In March, he passed away.

In April, we had a memorial service for him.

So, yeah, it’s been a roller coaster. A lot of you have been there, and know what it’s like. I feel like I’ve experienced pretty much every emotion there is in the last couple of months. It was exhausting and draining, but as long as there were things to do, I was OK. I flew down in February to help with the adjustment to hospice. I flew down in March after he passed, to be with family. I flew down in April for his service. And now it’s all done, there’s nothing left to do. And I’m left feeling empty.

My sister is fond of saying that when your emotional cup is empty, you’re grumpy and whiny, with nothing left for anyone else. How very true that is. My cup is empty – bone dry, in fact.

So, the question is: how do you refill your cup?

I’ve got plans for that. For the first time in months, I’ve got the emotional bandwidth to focus on something other than my dad’s health/death. And to my surprise, my attention has become very focused on just one thing: travel.

I thought I’d be thinking about spring planting and hikes and yard projects. Maybe some home improvement projects.

But no.

The one thing that’s been on my mind is travel. Here’s what I’m thinking about so far:

• April: Annual girls’ trip to Ogunquit, ME, COVID-permitting.

• May: Camping with a new group at Salisbury Beach, MA. COVID-permitting.

• May: Camping with the same new group, this time in Rhode Island. Friggin’ COVID-permitting.

• May/June: Camping at York Beach. To hell with COVID. We’re going.

• June: Camping in Vermont. All outdoor activities, so screw you, COVID.

• July: Family camping in Hancock, NH. COVID better not mess with this one.

• July: Family reunion in Maine. Sigh. Definitely COVID-permitting.

Wow, you wouldn’t believe how much that list cheers me up!

Looking at that list, you might not guess that I’m totally a home body. Having an RV makes a HUGE difference, because even when I’m traveling, I’m still home. Best of both worlds. It’d be perfect if only it had a garden, in which case I’d probably never come back to my stationary home.

Why, though? I don’t really know why that list makes me so happy. It’s about new places and new sights. It’s about what’s around the next bend. It’s about the open road, stretched out before you, with endless possibilities. It’s about what might happen.

Turns out my happy place is not a place. It’s a state of mind, one best achieved when I’m behind the wheel, driving off into the sunset, headed for my next adventure.

Cool.

© Kimberlee Martin, 2021. All rights reserved.