We have this thing we do over here when we're tackling something that requires a little encouragement. (Say, dunking into the ice cold creek on a hot summer day.) We cheer each other on with a random cry of, "One, two, three, ELEVEN!"
I no longer remember how it started, but it's our thing. Any time someone needs a little assist to muster their courage, that's what we reach for.
And today I'm ridiculously nervous.
That's the way it always is when I step out of my comfort zone.
But the garden is harvested, the salsa is made, and the last batch of tomato sauce is simmering away in the canner.
It's time.
Nellie (our camper) has had her final once-over. We've packed food, maps, books, and all manner of herbs, homeopathic remedies, ice packs, heating pads, and tinctures in a futile attempt at being ready for anything that may come.
The kids are champing at the bit to leave.
But am I?
Um. Sort of. Maybe. Yes. Definitely...
Okay, I don't know.
It's a funny mix of blind fear and unbridled excitement over here.
What will come of the next from weeks? I can only speculate. I have no doubts there will be frustration, drama, a few raised voices, and a handful of tears. We'll be homesick and missing those we leave behind.
I'm also positive we'll have our socks thoroughly knocked off by this beautiful country of ours. We'll spill over with wonder, curiosity, awe, and gratitude, day after day on the road. We will connect on a different level than we do at home, develop our self-reliance, self-confidence, and determination. We'll make new friends, grow, and come home transformed.
So much goodness is waiting, just around the bend. Of that I'm certain.
And so, I guess it's time to stop stalling. Let's get this show on the road!
One, two, three, ELEVEN!
And off... we... go!
Love,
Rachel
