When my husband and I first crossed paths 13 years ago, our shared dream was a common desire to break free from the confines of our small hometown in Arkansas. Although we spent numerous married years in that familiar place, we often found ourselves caught in a cycle of indecision, uncertain about when and where to make a permanent move. Our journey involved periods of extensive travel, spanning months at times, yet the gravitational pull of our hometown, whether due to financial constraints or a lack of clarity about the next steps, repeatedly brought us back. The back-and-forth dance with our hometown continued for years, with occasional extended stays, but our hearts always yearned for the open road and the adventures it held.

In 2016, we embarked on the R.V. life, investing our entire savings in a 1987 Jamboree affectionately known as Jamby. Countless late nights were spent transforming it into a more modern home on wheels, and when we deemed it road-ready, our journey commenced. Jamby, with all her quirks, became the vessel for unforgettable family memories—though I do hope to forget the time I accidentally ran over a stop sign. The late nights around the campfire, engaging in charades, the isolated spots with no cell reception, and the kids ending each day covered in dirt from newfound campground friendships are moments etched in our minds. While Jamby’s stint with us was short-lived due to her age, it was an adventure we wouldn’t trade for anything.

Of course, the nomadic lifestyle comes with its share of challenges. Breakdowns, running out of gas, checking into hotels only to discover rooms straight out of a horror film, and finding ourselves peeing in some rather awkward places—these incidents, once stressful, now serve as humorous anecdotes in our travel stories.

A year ago, we bid farewell to our hometown, kicking off a year filled with adventures and unexpected turns. Our travel style may differ from the typical full-time nomads, as we prefer immersing ourselves in a new state for months at a time. Little did we know that the world would be grappling with the onset of COVID-19 when we set out, with New Mexico becoming our haven during the lockdown.

Prior to the pandemic, discussions about our next destination were already underway. Colorado, a familiar and beloved place, was on the horizon. However, the swift spread of the virus led us to stay put in New Mexico until it was deemed safe to travel again. Finally, in August, we made the decision to hit the road and head to Denver, Colorado.

Once we arrived in Colorado, the realization dawned on us that the quest for a new permanent residence might not be what we truly sought. We came to understand that wherever we are together, that’s our home. The freedom to move from place to place at our whim resonates with us. After feeling stuck in a location where we didn’t belong for years, we are determined to avoid that scenario at all costs. We’ve embraced a lifestyle with no traditional home, reveling in the simplicity of collecting memories over possessions. Living the hotel life aligns perfectly with my minimalist preferences, and I’ve genuinely grown fond of this nomadic existence.

Flexibility has become our norm, and we’re not dismissing the possibility of a traditional setup if that’s where God leads us. For now, though, we’re precisely where we’re meant to be, and we’re immensely grateful for the life we’re living. Our journey has taken us through various living arrangements—apartments, houses, duplexes, and even tiny homes. There’s no shame in indecision or testing different lifestyles. My husband and I are not fans of settling, and while it took time to truly understand what we wanted from life, we’ve managed to build an incredible life filled with stories to tell.

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