The Hardest Part of Leaving Isn’t the House
I am so excited to go full-time in the RV. I cannot wait for a change. I cannot wait for new adventures. I cannot wait to spend more than just a few days a week with Krissy. I cannot wait to feel more connected to the earth again. I even cannot wait to no longer own a house.
At the same time, I have to admit that I am sad to leave some things behind: my job, my garden, the consistency of everyday life, my family, my hobby groups, and especially my friends—my chosen family.
There is so much I value about friendship. I love deep conversations that challenge me and help me grow. I love hugs when they are needed...and even when they aren't. I love gathering around a table to play games, surprise visits, and simply feeling connected to the people around me.
But more than anything, I will miss our community—the way we show up for one another.
A perfect example happened just this morning.
We bought a new refrigerator for Lucky. Krissy and I tried every way we could think of to get the old one out of the RV and the new one in. After trying everything, we realized the only way it was going to happen was through the emergency exit window. Even though we are both pretty strong, this was definitely not a two-person job.
Yesterday evening we sent out an SOS asking if anyone could help the next morning.
Within thirty minutes, six friends had volunteered.
The whole job only took a few minutes because we had enough hands.
I love that so much.
I also love being able to do the same for other people. Asking for help is vulnerable. Offering help is an act of love. Knowing you are surrounded by people who willingly do both is one of the greatest gifts in life.
This is only one example.
When movers canceled on us at the last minute, friends showed up and got us moved. People have helped us set up parties, clean up afterward, and raise our son. There have been rides to appointments, dog sitting, hospital visits, borrowed tools, shared meals, and countless little moments that most people would never think twice about.
Those ordinary moments are what build a community.
Helping each other has become such a part of who we are that when we became close with Nori and Marilee, we practically had to teach them how to ask for help. So many conversations ended with us asking, "Why didn't you just call us?" Sometimes we simply showed up anyway. Eventually, they started to understand that asking for help wasn't a burden—it was an invitation to let people love you.
As we get closer to full-time RV life, I know our friendships aren't ending. We will still have conversations, letters, FaceTimes, and visits.
But I am scared of losing the everyday.
I'll miss helping the Packards search for Coco when he slips out again. I'll miss dropping off tables at the Bissell’s house before a party or garage sale. I'll miss running over to Ann's school to help her film another Teacher of the Year video. I'll miss bringing in packages or checking on Stacey's dogs. And yes...I'll miss being able to send one text asking for help moving a refrigerator and having six friends immediately say, "We'll be there."
Those are the moments that quietly become the foundation of a life.
I know we will build new communities as we travel. I know we will meet incredible people all over the country. But this community—the one that has loved us, supported us, challenged us, laughed with us, and shown up whenever we needed each other—will always hold a special place in my heart.
If you're reading this, thank you.
We love you all.
—Anne
