Home

Since the end of March, I have hiked over 1000 kms, driven over 20,000kms, visited numerous beautiful places and met countless people I now consider friends.

While travelling, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be home. I spent the first two months in another country, which I enjoyed greatly, but once back across the border into Canada…there was something reassuring to be in my homeland, and it felt good to be home.

During the months of April and May, while hiking the Appalachian Trail, I slept in my tent all but 5 nights and found that small space to be more comfortable and more familiar than any other…you know…there’s no place like “dome?” LOL I had my routines, my things fit into their allotted places, and sheltered from the elements, I slept soundly and deeply, tucked into my sleeping bag…my trail home.

For the last ten weeks, I’ve slept in our van all but a handful of nights (a bunch of those in a tent again), stopping in dozens of places from here to the most easterly point of Canada, all the way north to the Yukon and now deep in the heart of the Rockies. Our van holds our things; clothes, toiletries, hiking gear, pots and pans, food, pictures of loved ones and each night I look forward to returning to my comfortable space to cook a meal, relax, and climb into my cozy bed…my home on the road.

I spent some time in my hometown back in June; rolling hills, lush green fields, tidy farms, familiar faces, familiar smells LOL IYKYK, home-cooked meals (like the ones I grew up with), family…and while there, something deep within tells me I’m home.

And then! The road took us to the place where my house stands, where my children live, where I work, and where so many of my friends abide. I quickly fell back into patterns, found things where I knew they’d be without even thinking…and my heart told me I’m home.

On our way west, we stopped at the place where I spent most of my summers as a teen and young twenty-something. It’s the place where I met my husband and where we brought our kids for multiple summer vacations…we even renewed our 25-year wedding vows there! Taking long, deep breaths of the cool northern air, I was transported…to yester-years…memories flooding, emotions rising…a summer home.

Continuing down the road, we stopped in and visited friends and family in the city that was our home for half a dozen years. I could no longer remember all the street names, but as I drove through the city, I somehow instinctively knew just where to go…paths and patterns laid deep in my mind and memory. Familiar street corners and buildings materializing as I approached, as though I was in a video game that was loading as I moved through it LOL. I made a point of walking past our old home, our son’s first school and the hospital where our youngest was born. A whole well of emotions I hadn’t visited in nearly two decades waited for me in these places. Home can do that…collect and store big, deep sentiments, feelings, emotions…

Far from family and friends, and after a fairly traumatic delivery, in a small town in Central Canada, we brought our first born into the world. Last month I drove through that town, by the site where the old hospital building used to be (there’s a new one now), through the streets where I had my prenatal visits, along old neighbourhood streets, and then took the time to walk slowly by our home…we lived there for such a short period of time and even though so much time has passed…it pulls at my heart…my baby’s first home.

Perhaps my heart feels stretched…like maybe it’s bigger than ever…as though more rooms have been built, more space made available for memories, for emotions, for connections…or maybe it’s confused? Where is my home?…or maybe WHAT is my home?…or maybe even more importantly WHO is my home?

I’m sure I’m not alone. I know I’m not the only one who’s moved multiple times throughout their life or have many, many places that hold the title of “home” in their life…

While travelling this year, I’ve had to plan and organize medication refills, blood work and doctor’s appointments. Yes. We all do this. But I’ve had to figure out how to do it while living in a van, driving back and forth across this gigantic country, in towns and places with pharmacists who don’t know me, have had blood work taken knowing it will be my responsibility to collect and pass along the results to physicians back home.

To any of you reading this who have been a part of making any of the multiple places I’ve mentioned feel like home to me…thank you. I’ll admit I was a bit nervous to leave the safety of predictability, as it relates to my RA – close proximity to my pharmacist, lab, physician etc. – but I’m so very glad I did! Remembering all the wonderful people and places where we’ve lived across this country has given me the ongoing courage I need to leave the familiar and predictable, and continue to venture to new and unknown places.

If you want to venture out, beyond your comfort zone, where certainty isn’t guaranteed…go for it! Take it from me, it is possible, with some planning and preparation, to do it safely and effectively. Need help? Got lots of questions? So did I! The answers exist, and it’s far less complicated than you might have imagined. Talk to your pharmacist, a great place to start, then your physician and, of course, your family and friends. Support can be found in so many places!