RV Withdrawal

I know I still have to catch up on the last week of our RV trip, but I wanted to write down how I've been feeling for the past 24 hours. Yesterday we finally pulled up to our house in our RV after three weeks and 5,800 miles on the road. During that time we crossed umpteen state lines, camped in numerous different campgrounds, drove flat, straight roads in the middle of wide open America and scary, winding, hairpin turns in the mountains of Colorado. We also had some mishaps, like putting the wrong gas in the RV, discovering a tear in the sewer hose, having to replace a dead auxiliary battery with three days left in the trip. We also had the misfortune of receiving the news that our house had been broken into and used as a party house by a group of teenagers, the details of which are still somewhat sketchy.

So you can only imagine the emotions that were experienced during that final ride home. We had just visited the Flight 93 Memorial which is not a lighthearted sightseeing stop. As the miles closed in on Virginia I felt myself dreading the return to the scene of the literal crime. I knew that our neighbors had gone into our house and cleaned it, but I still had a feeling of trepidation as we exited the beltway and drove those last few miles home. On top of that I was already mourning the end of an epic trip that forced our family of four to bond in ways we may never again experience.

When we finally parked for the final time we saw that our neighbors were waiting for us. Ella's little friend Shelby was all smiles to see her long lost buddy. My neighbor Dawn was waiting with keys in hand, since we'd had the locks changed and could no longer let ourselves into our own home. When we stepped inside we were greeted not by the stench of pot smoke, stale liquor and unflushed dirty toilets but by the fresh clean smell of a house that had been scrubbed from top to bottom. I soon found out that our neighbors had gotten together and hired a cleaning crew to make sure the job got done right. Every single emotion that I'd pent up inside pretty much overflowed at that moment.

We spent the next two hours unloading the RV, undoing our little home away from home, our closet on wheels, our traveling abode. The kids were happy to be home in familiar surroundings but I hated to say goodbye to the gas guzzling Winnebago. John said he never felt so attached to an inanimate object before. I know what he meant. Every little inch of that vehicle held a million memories. And we had to let it go.

Before John drove it away for the last time I laid down on the bed in the back and just took it in. By now the air conditioning had been shut off so it was getting a little steamy in there, but I didn't care. I looked toward the front of the RV and saw John in the driver's seat and me next to him, directing him to our next stop. I saw the kids lounging on the couch, at the table, or on the bed in back as we barreled down the highway at 70 mph. I saw the four of us around the table at night, playing raucous games of Sorry and Trivial Pursuit. I saw every little fight, laugh, annoyance, thrill, and stuff flying off the shelves when we took a turn too quickly. I saw the four of us sleeping at night, all in one big room, separated but together in one cozy space. I saw a lifetime of memories that we will never forget and that will become sharper and more precious in our minds as time goes by. The kids say they've had enough with RVs but I don't think that's true. They'll see one day how special this was and they'll wish they can do it again.

Today our house seemed really big, Our minivan felt like a sportscar when I drove it to work. Ella went to flush the toilet and automatically lifted her foot up to press the pedal. I saw RVs everywhere as I drove around for work. I resisted the urge to follow them, to walk up to the ones I saw parked in driveways, open the door and step in. I feel like I'm part of a special club now, an RV veteran.

Best trip ever.