After making so many sweet memories on the road this summer, we pulled into our driveway, unhooked our camper from the truck, walked in the door after a 12 hour drive, and rather than feeling relieved, I felt a soul-crushing homesickness. Our humble little house felt entirely too big. My eyes welled with tears as our voices echoed.
I don’t want to be here.
One week in and I’m still feeling that same homesick feeling. Seeing family since we’ve been back has certainly dulled the pain, but it’s still there. It creeps in while I’m sweeping the floors, doing dishes, putting laundry away, feeling overwhelmed at the responsibilities that I have been able to basically avoid over the past month. 22 feet of camper is certainly easier to maintain than 1,200 square feet of house.
It’s a strange feeling when your house doesn’t feel like home.
Please don’t get me wrong. I love our house. We have put a whole lot of hard work and sweat equity into it. Every single room has been painted and transformed to reflect our family’s aesthetics. But after 22 days away, I can’t help but feel like these four walls are holding us back. I want different reflections. Those of our kayaks on Adirondack Lakes. Sunsets over the Atlantic. Mountains in the rearview mirror in-between destinations.
Every sunny day at “home” starts with a burning desire to leave again. I am missing morning hikes, afternoons spent working from a picnic table overlooking scenic views, evening ice cream dates, the sound of our kids giggling as they play in the dirt and the serenity of a crackling fire as the only light illuminating our dark campsites.
I’m hopeful that come fall, I will find my appreciation for our home again. For the fireplace and cozy evenings spent sipping hot cider in the living room. For the warmth inside during the winter months and twinkling lights strung from the Christmas tree.
Right now, though, my mind is stuck in the clouds somewhere between Shenandoah, the Adirondacks, and Acadia National Park. It’s daydreaming about career changes, homeschooling, and making a go at this life on the road. I know it’s not realistic. We’re way too settled, stable and, admittedly… scared to actually make that big of a leap.
So until our next grand adventure, which won’t come soon enough, I’ll be scrolling through photos of our trip, flipping through the pages of Adirondack Life, convincing Luke to build bonfires in our back yard as often as possible, and living vicariously through bloggers who – braver than I – have found the courage to follow their calling and hit the road.