We’ve done full-time travel in just about every way imaginable — campers, hotels, cabins, and tent camping. We’ve spent nights curled up in the back of our vehicle with nothing but blankets, each other, and the stars above. When I say we lived on the road, I mean it in every sense. It was messy, magical, and deeply memorable.
The other day, we found ourselves reminiscing about those days with the kids. And surprisingly, all of us seemed to miss it in some capacity.
My husband sometimes talks about revisiting RV life. My sons still rave about our time hopping from hotel to hotel. And my daughter? Her favorite memories are the nights we slept in the car — yes, the car. That one caught me off guard, but looking back, I get it. We were close, connected, and fully present in a way that’s hard to replicate in everyday life. We laughed, got creative, and made the best of every space we found ourselves in.
What I Miss About Full-Time Travel
What I miss most is that closeness. The way we turned basic moments into memories — playing charades in national forests, stargazing from a campground, hearing the kids share stories around a fire or over a hotel breakfast. The friendships! We made so many amazing friends while camping, it was always so nice to be surrounded by like-minded people.
There was a simplicity to it all, and a deep appreciation for things most people overlook: arriving at a new hotel room after a long drive, settling into a sleeping bag next to my husband on a chilly night in a tent, or laughing together in the car before falling asleep right where we were.
There was something beautiful about the unpredictability — the freedom to go where we wanted, when we wanted. No lease. No rigid schedule. Just us, together, figuring it out one mile at a time.
What I Don’t Miss (But Honestly, It’s Not Much)
At first, I thought I’d say I didn’t miss the uncertainty — but truthfully, I kind of loved it. I thought maybe I’d say the lack of a consistent hot shower — but then I remember me and my daughter shivering and laughing uncontrollably at those freezing campground showers. That’s the thing: even the “hard” parts somehow became treasured memories.
Maybe I’m just wired differently. Maybe I really do miss it all. The chaos. The connection. The closeness. The way life slowed down even when the miles kept adding up. I miss not being tied to a lease or stuck in a routine that feels more like a checklist than a life.
Finding Joy in Stability (But Still Dreaming)
That said, I will admit: I got lucky with where we landed. The neighborhood we live in now is near a lot of things. I love our walks, the access to a pool, and the small comforts of apartment living — a steady Wi-Fi signal, a real kitchen, and yes, consistently hot showers. I’m not ungrateful. But if you asked me to give it all up and hit the road again?
I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Will we actually go back to life on the road? Maybe. Maybe just for a while. Maybe to feel that sense of freedom again, or to give our kids another round of unforgettable memories. Who knows what life will look like after this chapter of “lease living” ends?
If there’s one thing the road taught me, it’s this: home isn’t a place — it’s who you’re with. And wherever we end up, as long as we’re together, we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.
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