Breakfast for one in the campground

I am sitting in our campground, waiting for my family to wake up. I just went for a run on the beach. (Helps to offset the beer.) In spite of the fact that there are several families surrounding us, all I hear is the steady hum of the RV air conditioning, some kind of cricket-thing chirping, and one bird whose song sounds like a repetitive "ray-kee, ray-kee."

My run this morning was sensational. The ocean was a greenish mint, and transparent. The sand here is powdery white--like confectioner's sugar--nothing like the sand at home. Although I came across a few people further on down near the condos, our area belongs to a state park, and it's nearly deserted this early.

It was really the only time I've woken up early during this trip, gone off on my own for some down time. Not because I couldn't have; Hubby kept suggesting it. But it just didn't lend itself. For the first three stops, we were busy. There was so much to do, and new things to see (and endless pouring rains in those damned mountains), and I didn't want to miss anything...wanted to be with the kids and Hubby and do stuff and see stuff. And, I was tired. I wanted to sleep in. There were lots of late nights having too much wine or beer, either crab-hunting with the kids or having Grown Up Time out by the fire after they'd gone to bed.

I sit here now, outside my Little-Engine-That-Could-Camper, and I am content.

Calm.

Absolutely and completely calm. Something I rarely am. Considering that I've decided to start therapy again when I return home (and yoga and meditating) just to help find a way to calm my mind more, I sit here and am in amazement of the feeling. It's the beach, the sun, the blue skies, the early morning solo run, the cup of coffee, the feeling of freedom.

That's what this little clunker of a mobile home has given us: a feeling of freedom.

It's ironic how big the fight was when Hubby first proposed we buy an old RV. We don't fight often, and when we do, it's not usually major blow-outs, and never, ever over big decisions. But that one fight--I remember he had found "the perfect RV" (which wasn't even the one we got) on ebay--that fight was a doozy. "That is silly and unnecessary and ridiculous and irresponsible," I had said, with absolute certainty.

And then, after many conversations in which he reminded me how much I liked camping and how much more affordable it would be than flying anywhere, and, probably most importantly, seeing a picture of RVs on the beaches...I caved. I jumped on the bandwagon full-blown. And the night before we were going to buy it, I was the one who had to remind Hubby why it was a good idea.

And now here we are, a couple of years later, and getting ready to put it up for sale when we return home. Not because it was a bad idea--quite the opposite. But because this particular one was a great starter, but Good God, we'd like one that doesn't require prayers before starting any portion of it. And because we have travel plans over the next couple of years that don't include camping.

And as excited as I am about these plans and about getting a newer RV later on, I am so damned melancholy about parting with this one. I have learned a lot about myself in this tin can. I have made some of the best memories with my family in it. I have seen new places I didn't think I'd ever visit. And to think it all started out with one of' Hubby's Dreams and A Huge Fight. So there you go...another lesson: be open, because after all, life is nothing if not an adventure.