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Published: August 31st 2020
We are home, or at least our place of current residence. (The word "home" is up in the air now, innit?) We pulled into our drive about 9 on the clock last evening, having stopped off at the Saxapahaw General Store to pick up some food on the way. We unloaded the coolers and put their soggy contents in the fridge and turned on the AC and took care of our basic needs. Then we crawled into our familiar bed and ate our good food and watched the last episode of Alone
and fell asleep. We got up this morning much later than is usual.
We logged in almost 8,000 miles, by the time we got home. And on the way back, after the mountains of Montana and Wyoming, and then the no mountains of Nebraska, Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana, there were
mountains again, just as Donovan said there would be. We took the southern route to avoid the Chicago Clusterfuck, got off the Interstate somewhere after Lexington, KY, and took a series of winding secondary roads through the Kentucky and Virginia Appalachians before getting back on the Interstate at Abingdon, VA. And along the way, the Appalachians shared with
us their own special beauty, as if to say, "yeah, sure, those Rockies are big and sharp and awesome, we get it, but we're nice too, and don't you forget it."
And we won't forget it. We won't forget this place, this Southeastern world, this state where Sally and I both came with previous partners, had children, formed communities, lived our lives, made our marks, and then met each other. We won't forget the friends and family we're leaving behind, the beautiful souls we've come to know and love, the places, the faces, the whole of it, the parts. We won't forget a bit of it. We won't regret a bit of it. We'll hold it all, we'll hold you all, with love and well-wishes in our hearts, as we make the next curious step in our own strange journey here on Earth.
And we're not quite sure what that step will be, really. The offer has been made. It's in the hands of the sellers. They might accept it. They might counter. We might counter back. It might all work out. It might not. We don't know. We have a good feeling, but life has surprised us
before. So we wait. Tentatively making plans. Starting to talk through the details. Wanting to be able to dive in. Holding back a bit, just in case. And we're both a bit weepy this morning. Exhausted and sore still, yes. Daunted by the task ahead of us, sure, should we end up moving to Montana before the snow flies. But weepy mostly because it's all so big, and here's another big change, and here's more loss to grieve, as we leave this beautiful home into which we've sunk so much of our time and energy and love, as we leave our kids and grandkids and friends behind, and put so many miles between us.
So many miles to Whitehall, Montana. But we did the drive in about a day and a half. And we'll no doubt make that long drive again, to visit family in both New York and North Carolina. Perhaps some of you will make that long drive yourselves one day. We'll leave the light on.
For now, a day of restoration and easy chores. Empedocles needs to be unpacked, and then bathed, his tires manicured, his teeth brushed. There's plenty to do in the house now, as we look at the possibility of both turning it into an Air BnB and putting it on the market at the same time. But tomorrow, we're going to get up and head to the beach for a couple of nights of RnR. That seems like a smart move. Self care first, before the next big task. Self care first. It's hard, I know. We were not always successful with this on our trip. But, really, in the long run, it's the only way.
We were "on" the whole time. Every day was full to the brim with driving, emailing, talking on the phone, searching the listings, viewing properties, or finding the next place to eat or lay our heads. I would have managed better with only a third of the clothes I brought. Didn't need the books or most of my incidentals. Could have travelled much lighter. I'll have to remember that next time. Yeah, right.
Thanks for riding along, folks. It was nice to have you with us. We bid you peace.
Tim & Sally
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