“An adventure is an inconvenience properly understood.”
GK Chesterton
There are so many reasons why we should NOT pack up everything we own and travel the world for a year. There’s nothing we need to run away from; our life in Boulder is great. The record shop that Will bought a little over a year ago is doing well beyond our best projections and he has so many ideas of how to expand the business. I have been getting paid to help kids write college essays and loving it – I could really dig in and make this a fun career. I’m halfway through the writing of an historical fiction book for middle schoolers that I’ve had to table until this trip is done. The kids are happy in their Waldorf school and each will miss the milestones built into the curricula next year.
In my early twenties, I lived a mobile life from my old Saab 900. I kept my toothbrush and real treasures – like passport and audio cassette by my mother – locked in the glove compartment. I compiled a box with stamps, envelopes, stapler and checkbook that served as my “office” in the front seat and everything else I owned fit in the back. When I was in my mid-twenties and guided trips in Asia, I could just pay my rent and credit card ahead and leave with a few days of scrambling.
I no longer have a Saab nor a Subaru but instead a mini-van with a husband, four kids, an elderly Pug, hefty rabbit and a well-behaved fish. The sheer mass of our stuff is enough for me to say, what was I thinking? I am no longer mobile enough to act like a twenty-five year-old. Mid life is not conducive to mobility. Who do I think I am?
What if our parents get sick? What if one of us gets sick? What if (another) war breaks out that makes the world an unsafe place for Americans? What if we burn through so much money that we will be living on ramen noodles in our last month in Italy? What if it’s too much “quality time” together as a family and I just want them to go to school already? What if Will can’t handle living without a turntable? How will Will and I get any privacy as a couple?
I’m a Boulderite and I’ve grown to depend on my modern/organic/necessary splurges. What if I can’t survive without the posse of people it takes to maintain this 46 year-old body. I have my Kundalini yoga community that keeps me focused and happy. There is the chiropractor, the naturopath, my boutique barre workout class, my acupuncturist and the woman who colors my hair. The truth is: this body is not as self-sufficient as it was when I owned my Saab.
And then there’s what if we don’t follow a dream that Will and I had before we even had one kid? What if we let fear and the need to avoid inconvenience dictate our lives? What kind of cancerous thing would creep into us if we looked back on our lives in thirty years and said, “shoulda, coulda, woulda”? I think these last questions weigh more than the stuff we need to pack.
