Another Day

I wish you knew what it’s like to wake up each morning, peek out the back window and see a meadow dotted with wildflowers edged by a grove of towering pine.

This morning the rain’s finally let up, yet little clear drops remain. Hanging out in clusters on the window, suctioned to the glass.

Being greeted by a scene that includes nothing man made is remarkable, and for a chunk of our adventure that’s how it’s been.

Slipping out of bed is awkward as I navigate sleeping obstacle’s – Chad and Elvis – doing my best to live out the first line of the Hippocratic Oath: do no harm. Don’t wake them up, don’t accidentally kick them in the head.

Easier said than done.

I fill the jet boil with water, flick the lighter – anticipating that whoosh as the propane iso-butane fuel ignites into a dancing baby-blue flame.

I spent decades of my adult life wishing I was somewhere else. Wishing I was someone else, or at least ruminating over perceived flaws, thinking my life would be so much better if only.

When the water erupts into a boil, I hastily pull my Bodum French Press off the shelf, and shake in a liberal amount of coarsely ground dark roast.

I pour the water in slowly, stirring. I love watching the steam catch the early morning light.

I never noticed it before, in my florescent-lit kitchen. There, I rushed about. Distracted and frazzled as I prepared for a long day of work.

After three minutes, I depress the plunger and pour my first cup.

I’m sure you know the glory that is the first sip of coffee, it holds its own no matter where you are. In fact, I fall asleep each night so excited about the next day – the first taste of hot coffee – and all the other opportunities that await.

I slip back into bed, and prop myself up with pillows. I pull out a book, drinking black coffee in between paragraphs.

None of this is complicated.

None of it rushed.

I read, journal, and work on to writing projects.

Next, I pull spinach, ground flax seed, hemp seed, blueberries, and almond milk out from our cooler sized fridge. Liberate a banana from its yellow jacket, and carefully shave the bark-like outer layer from a generous thumb-sized amount of ginger.

It all goes into the Vitamix. I flip on the inverter, and blend.

I think about distilling the life Chad and I enjoy into a formula:

Lower cost of living + waaaay less things = more time to spend doing what we love.

We take Elvis on a walk. Chad and I have some of our best conversations as we explore the terrain of whatever remote location we’ve made our home.

I love absorbing these new places. We usually walk at least three miles, delighting in unfamiliar plants, birds, and of course the cows. I feel a kinship with them. They’re free range – not totally wild with their pierced ears and brands – but they’re not cooped up, and neither are we.

If only I knew – way back when – all it took to neutralize the if only that used to plague my thoughts, was easily found in nature. A simple separation so I could reconnect.