Piñatas should be filled with medical supplies and Xanax.
Or you could just hang my purse from a tree.
I’m #hobomom and this is the space I occupy most: behind the bat. Watching for the accident. Waiting. Worrying.
Not in the moment, no, I don’t live there, because there’s not enough room. My husband takes up ALL the space there, as you can see. Doesn’t he look so content?
Our 8-year-old, Nora, doesn’t live in the moment either, because she’s too busy beating it to shreds.
She IS the moment.
It takes all three of us to keep the balance.
OK actually it takes all three of us plus Lamictal to keep the balance but we can get into that later.
We’ve decided to uproot our lives for 6 months to live in a van. Not a cute, trendy airstream with a West Elm interior. A maroon, 2005 Ford e150 that was converted into a Chester Molester “stranger danger” van. The kind you tell your children to avoid even if someone lures you in with candy and puppies. Sort of awkward, because we also have candy and puppies in our van. And drugs, since my purse is a pharmacy. Just trust me, it’s totally normal and we are good people. Unless I’m hungry. And then, eh, just back away slowly and don’t make eye contact.
We’ll be living on the road from June to December, home schooling Nora, and working Monday through Friday every week, just in various towns, mountains and camp sites.
I plan to leave comments turned off because they become too much to manage, but I’d love to meet and hear from you through social media (Instagram preferred @hobomom), especially if you have bear safety tips, knowledge on where the best cell service is in parks, and road school advice.
I’m here to document memories, learn from you, and keep my sanity through creative writing. You are welcome to judge me, but keep it to yourself or else I’ll have to pay my therapist a lot of money to tell on you.