In more than 9 months on the road, I have been lucky to witness some truly incredible examples of community.
I’ve been welcomed into Bible studies, chatted with people during fellowship hours, and camped out under the stars with a growing group of strangers. I have broken bread and tipped back beers with people all throughout the country. I’ve laughed and listened my way through 27 states — and am eager to someday see 23 more.
But somehow, in the last month spent stationary, I feel more connected to my own community than ever before — even if I’m still more than 2,000 miles away from many of the people I hold dear.
Traveling nonstop can have its challenges; moving place to place every few days can leave me feeling more lonely than adventurous. (It’s a hidden downside that Kerouac and Steinbeck never mentioned.) Phone calls and texting replace popping over for a cup of coffee, and it’s hard not to feel saddened by the reality of time beating forward — even when you’re not there.
These days, the mode of conversation hasn’t changed. I’m still calling, texting, and video chatting with my loved ones. But the attitude has seen an undeniable shift: instead of feeling like I’m missing out on big moments, there is an overwhelming sense of commiseration. We all feel disjointed in this “new normal.”
I’ve developed a rotating list of daily calls to stay connected with family and friends: my own personal happy hour, where we sip wine and chat like we are feet, not miles, away. I’ve checked in on even more people, loved ones who I think of often but don’t always have the chance to keep up with.
A growing list of comments and messages have flooded my inbox and I feel so grateful for the opportunity to connect with you about this project. My boyfriend and I have started virtual dates: time spent cooking, playing games, and even watching Netflix to feel “together” even when we’re on opposite coasts. Snail mail has replaced trips home (at least for the time being), which encourages me to keep up with my monthly correspondence.
Every time I hang up the phone, click off FaceTime, or send a message back, I’m struck with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It’s an instant mood boost to connect with someone even miles away, a reminder that we’re not as separate as it may sometimes seem. I feel grateful to have the blessing of good health so I can relish these silver linings.
I also cannot help but recognize there are some significant lessons to be learned from this time off the road.
- It is more than okay to slow down — it is necessary to redefine my priorities, both personal and professional.
- When I love someone, or miss someone, I should let them know — I never know how they’re feeling at the end of the line.
- I have more hours in a day to use now that I’m staying put — it’s simply a matter of using the time responsibly. (Keeping social media usage to a minimum is a great start.)
- Creativity spurns from limitations — and time spent stationary for the foreseeable future is a pretty substantial one.
- I am often not as alone as I may feel — my friends and family are just a phone call away, waiting with open arms.
While the timing for when I can head back to the open road feels uncertain, I cannot help but wonder how I can implement these lessons into my life in transit. How can I stay clear on my priorities when my location changes every few days? How do I maintain close connections to those I hold near and dear?
While I feel more connected to my community now, I want to remain this close as the rule (not the exception). It’s a challenge I’m up for — one I’m determined to make work.
