We’re currently parked near but not quite in Sedona, as the title of this blog suggests. The boys are down at the campground pool (where apparently it’s warm enough for swimming), and I’m slurping leftover potato soup and staring out the window at a sunset coming down over flat layers of orange and white rocks.
We’re here for a week, and then we’re headed back to Flagstaff. Flagstaff is going to be a problem. Have you ever arrived in a place and looked around and been like, “Why hello. I believe this may be home”? Because that’s what happened to me, and this feeling worries me. I do not have a job in Flagstaff. I have no connections or friends in Flagstaff, and neither does Trent. And most importantly, we cannot afford Flagstaff. As it turns out, it’s yet another gorgeous town where the cost of living far exceeds most people’s budgets.
I love traveling. I love RVing. I love that everything I own fits into the trunk of our car + our 29-foot class C Coachmen. I love (love, so much love) not having to purchase furniture. I love field trips, I love adventures, I love trying local craft beers everywhere I go.
I know community is going to be an issue for me – if not now, eventually. RVers form a community of sorts: most of us are active on social media, keep in touch via Facebook and Instagram, and even meet up for rallies every now and then. But I’m talking about people-you-see-every-day-or-at-least-once-a-week community. Go-for-a-run-together community. People-I’ve-known-for-years community. For Sam, friends-other-than-his-parents community.
I don’t have any answers at this point, other than knowing that for now, I love what we’re doing. We’re committed to at least a year. But it’s something I’m thinking about and something I know will keep cropping up as we adventure across the country.