My parents got divorced when I was 7. Two decades later, I realize that what I learned from divorce made me a better traveler.
It’s been two decades since my parents divorced and a decade since I started traveling internationally. There’s a lot to be said about the way a child’s brain develops, and I know very little about any of it. What I do know is that I’m a better traveler because of my parent’s divorce.
Let Me Explain:
My family of four lived in a town of about 3,000 people in Iowa until I was 7. My dad stayed there, and my mom, brother, and I moved to a metro of about 380,000 people.
Every other weekend and for a month in summers, we’d trek across the state and hang out in the small town with our dad. We’d spend those weekends going on hikes and playing hide and seek in forests and camping before going back to the city.
The city was home, but those weekends and months in the summer were adventure.
I remember going to 5th-grade camp with a group from school. We were prepped, as were the parents, for how to do it. How to camp, what to expect, and what it would be like to be away from home. It’s probably the first time I realized that my parents’ divorce helped me with ‘life stuff’. Where was the challenge that these kids saw?
Then, when I was 16, I saved up to go on the French Club trip to France. We’d be away for 18 days total. Immediately after I returned, my family was going to visit my aunt in Boston, so I’d be away from home for about 4 weeks straight. About a week into my trip, my roommate for the night called home and burst out in tears. I remember thinking, ‘she already misses her family? Weird.’
Travel Lessons I Learned From Divorce:
What I didn’t realize then was that I became stronger because of the time I spent away from my parents – I was always away from one of them. I could spend a weekend or month away and be okay.
During all of that traveling back and forth, my little brother became my constant. We’re still best friends.
Professionally, I went on to become successful in my sales roles because of my ability to build relationships over the phone.
As a traveler, I am used to traveling often and far. I’m really good at road trips because of the 8+ hours per weekend that we spent going back and forth.
I can channel the energy it takes to miss someone into adoration.
What about you? What life event has most affected your travels?
My mom, brother, and I lived in an old house with a big kitchen when I was little. Looking back, the kitchen wasn’t probably all that big, but I remember everything about the fridge.
From age 7 to about 12, I remember the three of us packing lunches together in the mornings, talking about our days, and always referring to the calendar on the fridge. The fridge was a showcase, a museum, and an accountability partner. The fridge had the answers to most questions.
Was it this weekend that we go to dad’s? Check the fridge.
What time is soccer practice? Check the fridge.
Did you sign my report card? Check the fridge.
My brother and I, circa 1998, on a kitchen floor
I remember getting a new fridge one year, trading in the ugly green model for something a little more aesthetically pleasing. My mom printed off and hung up a color-coded calendar every couple of weeks for the upcoming month, and I remember a poem she hung up there one time. I don’t know if it was there for a week or a year, but I remember us saying it together occasionally.
The poem was Homage To My Hips by Lucille Clifton. (She reads it here) My mom and I would get really soulful when we read it, powerfully reciting, “these hips are MIGHTY HIPS”.
Turning 28
While I won’t say that I grew up in an ultra-progressive, super body-pos household, I did get to grow up watching the women in my life be powerfully independent, and I got to grow up encouraged to read powerful words by powerful women.
Some of the women in my family
I grew up with that poem in the back of my head, and I carried it into 27.
As I look back on what 27 meant, I’ll admit it’s been a wild ride.
It started off in Florida, dodging a situation that could bring any person to their knees. I faced 27 with my shoulders back and chin high.
This year, I was told other people’s truths about my abilities and discerned what their words meant. I told 27 what I needed to hear.
I moved halfway across the country and redefined my goals. Then, I came out ahead and get to do work that lights up my brain.
I experienced loss, and in turn, celebrated life.
So, what did 27 teach me?
Amongst all the things that 27 taught me to celebrate, I am choosing to summarize 27 in one stanza: These hips are MIGHTY hips.
I know that I have been given the tools to succeed. I’ll admit- it is so easy to get caught up in all the things or places that others say I should be, or to let people tell me how I should behave or look. I’m a woman in 2019, there’s no shortage of opinions available.
However, 27 taught me about my own power. It brought me confidence in my ability to do quality work. 27 gave me a new determination to dream.
27 brought me a love for my body. Not just a shallow ‘like what you see in the mirror’ love, but gratitude. I am grateful to have been given a body that is able. At 27, I can celebrate what I am able to do because I am lucky enough to do it. I can sustain hours in planes or cars. I can climb mountains and pitch tents and dance. 27 taught me to breathe canned air 100 feet underwater and I can run a 5k. I can overcome anxiety and heal from blisters and brush off words and walk away from situations that no longer serve me.
These hips are FREE hips.
They go where they want to go, they do what they want to do.
These hips are MAGIC hips.
Where will these hips take me in 28? I don’t know, check the fridge.
It’s hard not to smile when I strap on my rollerblades. Not just smiling in anticipation of a head-turning workout but in the nostalgia of all the memories that come along with the fruit boots.
Every time I lace up, my rollerblades take me straight back to the smell of the roller rink. Sweat, popcorn, and antibacterial spray roll me past the hokey pokey and straight to screaming, “YMCA” at the top of my fourth-grade lungs. Rollerblades transport me to holding hands with a boy for the first time, and whipping my friends around rounded corners to test the limits on how fast we could go.
Laces, velcro, buckle. Strapping in is a process, but perhaps it’s worth it to build a little anticipation.
The stagnant rink air has given way to a lifetime of alternative cardio. I can all but tumble down the bike path and feel the vibration of imperfect cement in my ears, this time taking me through Rhode Island forests and down lakefront paths in Dallas. The YMCA has gone the way of N*sync, instead syncing my ears with alt-rock and Bose headphones.
My rollerblades came to me in a fight, and a little bit of jealousy. Did I want rollerblades? No. But my older stepsister was getting them, which means that I not only wanted them but very suddenly needed them. “Mom! Why are you buying her things and not me!?” I whined in Target knowing full well I was too old to whine and that it was no way to negotiate. But still, I went home with matching rollerblades to my stepsister. Go figure.
Middle school Sam: 1. Mom: 0.
Rollerblades for Life
Yet 5 years later, I made room in the car to take my black and gold babes to college. Rollerblading was far from cool, yet I was out there, convincing girls on my dorm floor to join me on laps around campus, making memories and causing more than a few bruised bums.
5 years after that, I moved to Rhode Island and made rollerblading before work a habit. I cleaned the wheels when Atlantic sand slowed them down and the sea spray rusted out axle bolts. I got to think, and I got to fly.
So here, another 5 years gone, the fruit boots still whip me around corners and make me smile. Do I think of holding whatshisname’s hand every time I put them on? Every time. The roller rink DJ must’ve had his fair share of laughs looking down at us from his perch.
Laces. Velcro. Buckle. Smile. For me, for nostalgia, for next time.
Have you ever planned a trip with friends, and one by one, your friends back out? Same. Which left me wondering: does anyone know how to take yourself on a solo road trip?
In this article, I’m going to give you a tongue in cheek look into how to take yourself on a solo road trip. Buckle up, and I hope you giggle 🙂
My first night camping alone, my down the way neighbors invited me over for dinner. Afterward, we had a beer, made a fire, and watched the sunset. They even saw me off with coffee in the morning and let me play with their dogs!
So, here’s the dish. How to take yourself on a road trip, a tongue-in-cheek, slightly factual guide, by me.
How to take a solo road trip:
Decide you want to go on a road trip. Possibly be inspired by someone else’s trip and think, ‘I’ll add a solo road trip to the bucket list’.
Pick an elusive time parameter. For me, I had a girls weekend in Denver, and 10 days later a conference in Billings. A normal person would fly twice it, but hey. It’s me.
Add other stops to the trip that sound fun. For me coming from Dallas, it was parts of Texas and the National Parks that I’d always wanted to visit, plus visiting friends and family on the way back from Billings.
Realize a few days before you’re scheduled to leave that you need to pack for hot, cold, parties, work conferences, hiking, sleeping, and more. Wait until 40 minutes before you plan to leave to throw it all in the car, creating a ‘homeless-hoarder-chic’ aesthetic for the Semi-Truck drivers that look down into your car. Top it off with that super cute hat you probably won’t wear at all on the trip.
Run back in the house for the phone charger, but end up grabbing a lighter, bottle opener, and the last half of a loaf of bread. You know, just in case.
Go. Nobody gave you permission, so don’t wait for anyone to tell you not to go. Thank every person who tells you to be safe, knowing full well you did not buy that bear spray.
Pretend you’re not freaking out.
Listen to all the podcasts you’ve been meaning to listen to, see all the things you’ve always wanted to see and see all of the friends you told you’d come visit.
Make new, unexpected friends along the way. The weird dude at the campsite? He and his wife will end up offering you dinner. And then a beer. And then coffee on your way out in the morning. They’ll even let you pet their dog. And offer you their couch in case it rains at night. “Just holler, ya hear?”
Splurge on a hotel after several nights of not showering and days of hiking. Watch your skin turn from dark and dusty back to pale AF.
Learn to make ‘camping food’ better than your parents. A double-decker veggie burger with cheese on slightly stale whole wheat, and a layer of peanut butter just because? You won’t have felt this ‘college’ since college. Except in college, you had amenities and this is a really mediocre campfire.
Take time to stop and grow. Think, write, read, and do the things that make your brain light up. Be grateful, because not everyone makes the time to do this. You will be a more interesting person to have a beer with after this.
If you fail to plan, you plan to fail, right? Well, I barely planned at all for my first time solo camping. However, I’d say it went pretty darn well.
My family camped relatively often growing up. Always in state parks, often on road trips. After I quit my job, I decided that it was time to see more of the U.S. so I set off on a two-month road trip.
My main reservation wasn’t with the camping, sleeping alone
in a forest, or managing to make food. It was the idea of not having anyone
around if I needed them or just the sanity check of having someone to talk to.
My First Night of Solo Camping
One of the things I failed to plan was reserving a campsite. I pulled in to Vedauwoo Campground in Medicine Bow National Forest around 6:30pm after a 2h15 drive from Denver. The campground had two other cars in it, both with 5th wheel campers. Being the day after Labor Day, I figured there would have been more long-weekend stragglers. I drove around and chose a spot that was about 100m from the bathroom. I figured it’d be close enough to be comfortable, far enough to not smell it or hear the door slam.
Sunset brew on my ‘front porch’. Peep my blue pop up tent 🙂
The pop-up tent that I brought is so easy to put together. It took about two minutes to get ready! I staked it down and used my car air pump to pump up my queen size air mattress. Then, I put the fitted sheet on it (because nobody likes sleeping on plastic) and had the bed and tent ready to go within minutes. I cracked open a beer and watched the sunset.
When I walked back to my car to get fire starters and a lighter, I noticed my neighbor watching me. He wasn’t creepy, just one of those folks that you can tell doesn’t get a lot of social interaction. It could have been unnerving since it was my first-time solo camping, but I leaned into the situation.
I went over and introduced myself to him and his wife. Within 30 seconds I had an invite to come over for dinner tonight. They told me if I needed anything to come knocking, and that they’d keep an eye out for my things while I was out hiking today. Campers are the best 😊
I declined their invitation to come over that night, so they came to keep me company while I started my own fire. After a few comments on my veggie burger, we shared a beer and a few comments on the weather. Together, we watched a lightning storm approach. Again, they offered that I could come to their camper if I needed anything. I learned later on that it hailed hard on some campsites about 6 miles west of us, so I was grateful for the friendship.
I was super nervous about sleeping in the middle of nowhere alone. The best thing I did was bring an extra blanket and a flashlight. It got down to the 40’s but I was cozy as I read in bed and drifted off to sleep. I got a full 11 hours of rest and loved waking up without any technology.
First Day of Solo Camping
Another thing I forgot to plan? Filling up my water bottles and Camelbak before I got to the campsite. There was no running water after Labor Day, so I had to drive about 6 miles to find water.
I also forgot to plan anything to do while out there. Go ahead, roll your eyes.
I knew that ranger stations typically had plenty of maps and knowledgeable staff, so I chatted with the rangers while at the station. I lucked out because the Rest Area had Wi-Fi, clean water, and great staff.
The ranger had great tips for a hike that started about 1km down the road. So, I took off from there on foot to hike for about 8 miles. I had a sandwich, a banana, some cashews, and 2L of water on me when I left.
Ultimately, the first day of my first time solo camping went a lot better than it probably should have. I should have planned more than just food and a tent, but I fared pretty well.
After the day I just told you about, I spent an extra day in Vedauvoo National Forest. After that, I headed to Jackson Hole then onward to Montana for two weeks. Solo camping left me feeling so independent and free. I’m so proud of myself for doing it, and can’t wait to have another go at it somewhere else!
So, failing to plan might not always mean planning to fail,
don’t you think?
As my ‘girls weekend’ comes to a close, I’m sitting in a friend’s kitchen while he cooks and feeling so at home. But it leads me to wonder when am I home; where am I home?
We found lost lake!
Memory is important. Remembering the people who were once whole fractions of our hearts is how we stay rooted. But how we move on when those people are no longer a block away or down the hall is how we build our character. Who we are together, makes us who we are apart.
It’s not often you get to laugh at the same things twice, nonetheless for infinity. Come Friday night, there we were – different living room floor, different time, same us. We even looked exactly the same despite that certain quality, time passing in our eyes.
Convinced the fondest of memories rested at the bottom of the bottle, we took turns sipping on nostalgia and getting drunk off shared experiences. I’m convinced our time apart served us solely to share stories that night. Age was on our side for once – we had opinions about things other than our peers, thoughts on what comes next and even after that, and a looming understanding that the three people existing in that room would be forever changed by the next phase of life. Every cup brought us a sip closer together.
What if we hadn’t kept in touch? What if we didn’t follow our hearts?
These nights are the ones worth waiting for. The kind where the perfect song plays on shuffle and the temperature is just right enough to have the windows down.
You never realize how young you were until you’re older, but we were young and old at the same time that night. Time only passed in laughter and meaningful words which is how it’s supposed to be. The purest palpable energy, the most honest of emotions, and the most effortless wave of conversation all wrapped up in our perfect present.
So maybe I’m not home, or always home. Maybe nostalgia is just a jerk. But we were there, finding the lost and creating memories for the next time. The next living room floor, the next rendition of us, at home.
