The Question of Why?
Today is our last full day on the road. Tomorrow we will pack up and head to Pacifica, maybe 3 hours away. I feel like that Tom Wait’s song I Don’t Want To Grow Up. I want to dig my heels in and wail “Nooooooo, you can’t make me!” Don’t get me wrong, we have a good life in SF/Pacifica. We have a nice house/studio, we have great friends, and we have the kinds of jobs that give us freedom (i.e. self-employed, which means no work at times which can lead to stress…) Lily is happy here. I guess it’s just that the bigger questions in life are different. In SF they were about aging and right work/good work and whether I was doing enough politically and whether I was composting correctly and did we remember to put the garbage out. On the road none of those, well, most of those questions haven’t come up. On the road the questions have mostly been centered on the word “Why?” Why do people live where they do? I mean some of these places are truly in the middle of nowhere, maybe even farther. You’ll be driving and driving and suddenly there’s a small encampment of trailer homes, some with tired swing sets in the dirt yard, just plunked down. Or after miles and miles of nothing there will be an oasis with a beautiful house and manicured lawn, but without another living soul around. Why? Was it a choice or did they run out of money or gas or their car broke down and they just decided to stay?
Are they happy or fulfilled? Where do they work? Where the hell do they pick up a gallon of milk? Do they know they can leave? This set of questions was repeated over and over on our 32 states, 9,000+ miles of driving.
The question of “Why” permeated other aspects of the trip, for me at least. At the beginning of this trip I posted something about why we were taking the trip. All joking aside, I felt there was a spiritual rift in our family. Our connection to each other and to the world around us was fraying. I’ve written about how I was struggling with the changing relationship I had with Lily. Equally as important was my questioning my relationship with Cork. I mean, why were we together? Was it because we love each other or was it because we didn’t know how to leave? Was our lack of conversation because we’re comfortable with each other or because we’re bored? Was our lack of fighting because we get along or because we just didn’t care? Do we have anything to sustain us as Lily becomes more and more independent? For the first year or two of our marriage I likened myself to a fish on the end of a line, thrashing and pulling and flailing. Cork would be, like, “Reel her in!” I struggled with the entire concept of marriage, even though I’d always wanted it. In the months leading up to the trip I was once again starting to flail.
So what was I hoping to accomplish on this trip? I realize now that we’re perched upon the brink of our return that I was hoping for transformation. I was hoping for a deeper connection with my family, one that will get us through the next crazy angst-ridden teenager/angst-ridden artist/menopausal mom stage. I was hoping for some amazing revelation that would set the stage for my life to come. I was hoping for our/my next steps to be clearly imprinted before me. I was hoping… I guess I was hoping to come back different.
And am I? In many ways, yes. Maybe it’s a factor of my age, but I was hoping to return with boundless energy just waiting to explode with new ideas and projects. Instead I feel more of a constant, steady thrum, an understanding that whatever happens next will be fine. (Well, I say that with the knowledge that in the 7 days we’ve been back in the state of California we’ve munched the RV, our cat has died, Lily has found out that one of her best “new” friends from her new school has left and my computer is biting the dust.) I may not have returned a new person, but I returned a calmer person, and for my type A+++ personality, that’s a good thing. I came back liking my family, which was absolutely NOT a guarantee on this trip. Heck, I came back!
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| I love the thought of a beach specifically for vehicles! |
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| Pismo Beach |
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| Our campsite guests |
AAAAAAHHHHHHH we’ve just left our final RV site of the trip. We spent four days at a camp in Pismo Beach, a spit’s distance from the sand. We drove cars on the sand and walked, walked, walked, and saw the Monarch butterfly-laden trees and had dinner with our friends Ray and Patricia, who relocated to the Santa Barbara area from Chattanooga a year ago. We relaxed and read books and ate! My jeans have become jeggings this past few weeks (for anyone teen-girl fashion impaired, jeggings are a cross between jeans and leggings…) and I’m happily allowing them to get tighter and tighter. I figure what the heck, we’ll be so broke when we get back that we won’t have the money to do much so I’ll have all the time in the world to walk things off. After Pismo we moved up to Marina Dunes, a tiny little RV park sandwiched between 101 and the beach about 10 miles north of Monterey. We rented a car and toodled around Carmel and Pacific Grove and Monterey, revisiting places we’ve gone to in the past and visiting new places. We ate a GREAT meal at a Greek place in Monterey called Epsilon. For any Greek food lovers, it’s worth visiting the next time you’re down there. We also had a great sanddab sandwich at a little place in Carmel, but I can’t remember the name. We had an AWFUL meal at Kula Ranch, part of the Wyndham chain in Monterey. It rained and rained yesterday, so for the first time in the 25 years I’ve lived in California, I bought an umbrella. I don’t like umbrellas ‘cuz I’m always afraid I’m going to poke or get poked in the eye, so for years I’ve just worn hats or run from the house to the car. But not anymore!
