You Can’t Go Home Again. But You Can Go to Canada

When last we wrote, we were heading back home to the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts after almost a year on the road. After catching up with family in Michigan and visiting a couple of our kids in Toronto, we’d scheduled a slew of health screenings and other important appointments.

Dan had a work events to attend to, and we planned to meet with our tenants and come to a decision about what to do with our house. In addition, we hoped to reconnect with our friends and family in the area. …All in a week and a half.

We expected it’d be a busy. What we didn’t expect was how very strange it felt to return home after a full nine months on the road.

We didn’t quite belong anymore. Our roots had been (intentionally) yanked, our house empted, our priorities shifted. But everything at home stayed pretty much the same as it’d been. For a more socially-focused couple, the stopover could have been awesome fun. But, though we tried hard, this introverted couple found the return jarring and a bit uncomfortable.

We returned home in a dismally rainy spell. Weeks of gray, drippy skies didn’t help much.

We did not feel up to “moochdocking” in anybody’s driveway. So we boondocked a few rainy days in local spots. It was strange to see all these familiar places through “van living” eyes. We “stealth camped” on the streets of a nearby town, a college campus, a trailhead and a truckstop. Then we stayed in a friend’s airbnb while we ferried back and forth to our more intensive medical screenings. (Colonoscopy prep and vanlife are words you should never hear in the same sentence.)

You’d think that returning home after nine months away would bring on a longing for rooted living. But, for us, it was quite the opposite. We were itchy to move on almost immediately. We felt a little like the stereotypical college freshman, returning home all mopey and judgey, changed and shy all at once. Eventually, we were able to shake it off and visit a few folks (which was wonderful) and we DID get all our “have-to’s” out of the way.

It’s pretty clear to us that the rural Massachusetts phase of our lives is over… at least for now. When (or if) we get a hankering to regrow our roots, we may return. For now, it will be a yearly thing. Our medical insurance is tied to Dan’s work and so we, will be back next May to get our check ups… and to visit with folks.

Maybe next year, we’ll feel more grounded upon our return to our hometown ground. We really do love this area and our comfy and loving community here. Sometimes we miss gardening and birdfeeders, potlucks and raffles, co-op shopping, running into familiar folks everywhere we go, walking beautiful, hilly rural roads. But we sure don’t miss the snow or the chopping/shoveling/seeping/mowing that went along with “sticks and bricks” living.

In between the “have-tos”, general malaise and feelings of uprootedness, we visited with family in Connecticut and also drifted up to Montreal to see two of our kids. It was a busy, lovely, awful, challenging time.

When all that was over with, and we had clean bills of health, a plan for our house, a haircut for the dog,a check up and oil change for the van, and a few lovely visits with friends, we pointed Steven’s wheels North and drifted up through Vermont and New Hampshire.

We felt positively giddy with joy when it was all over with and we found ourselves sitting beside the Connecticut River in central Vermont, eating our customary bowls of cereal. Back to our van living ways …And headed to a brand new area for us: Northern Quebec, including the Cote Nord and the Gaspe Peninsula.

We’ll share more about that journey, along with some more practical tips on visiting the awesome Canadian province of Quebec in our next post.