The First Night 

Every person who has become a nomad has had the first night. That first night when you fell asleep after halting trepidation. You might have fooled yourself into the “we are just camping ” idea, or the “I am only traveling ” excuse, but in the back of your mind, you knew that there was no place to go back to and this was it.


Perhaps it was only momentary, or maybe you needed some more self convincing, and it took waking up the next morning to discover that absolutely no one cared where you slept the night before.

Maybe you felt powerful, like a pirate on your own ship, controlling your new destiny, or it made you feel small and insignificant, an afterthought of society, but something in you changed.

My first night was in a class C RV we named Roxie. I slept over the cab, and every little sound woke us up. Every noise reminded us that we weren’t home, how things used to be. It was unnerving and downright scary.

The first few months would continue to be just as frightening and we would be on our guard constantly, but now we are in Corrie (the Coraline, a conversion van we soon will convert to a class B), and this is all old hat to us. Now we are truly nomads, travellers, and that part of it that was in our blood all along has come out.

We’ve seen so much in the past few years, but regularly we see people that are sleeping in their vehicles, fidgeting, looking around, wondering what we think of them, how we view them, and trying to assess if they are officially trash or not.

Well, you are not.

You are breathing. God loves you. We love you. You will survive, and either learn to love this lifestyle or find a way back out of it.

It will all be okay. Just don’t give up.


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