We had “plans” to sell the camper for a few months. Plans turned into a Craigslist ad, turned into hoards of people looking at it, but their excuses on passing were endless – some people didn’t realize it was a stick shift, some low-balled us, others just wanted to take a look but never had intentions of buying it. In my brain, I compartmentalized it as this thing we’d always say we were going to do – “sell the camper” – but that in reality it would never really happen. We bought the camper 3 years ago when Hudson was a little over a year old. It was one of those bucket list things that I personally wanted to do since I was a little girl. I can remember my dad taking us into a camper dealership, him pretending to whip up some burgers on the inside stove, and my mom saying no way to ever buying one. I dreamt of Westfalia vans, and then before we got married we even flew cross country and rented one for a week! It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. So much so, that Matt and I flew back to the same spot when Hudson was only 5 months old, and traveled to Joshua Tree in the van with him, wandering around the joshua trees at sunset, the stars so bright in the sky they lit up our path. It felt serendipitous – meeting a person as passionate about owning a van as I was. We knew we couldn’t afford a Westie, but we wanted to own one, and so after Hudson turned one, we started our search. It took months to finally find a van large enough for the 3 of us, that could also fit in a parking spot, but when we found the one, Matt flew out to pick it up and drive it home. We found a local spot to fix up the interior, and then we were off. Our favorite time of the year to travel with it was in the Fall, where we could just pull up to the most epic leaf spots, jump out, go on walks in nature, and then sleep under the stars. I have so many memories of Hudson when he first started to walk wandering around Montauk where we’d camp.
On August 10th, Matt told me someone was coming to look at the camper. I thought nothing of it. Thirty minutes later I walked over to the front door to say hi to the woman who came to see it, and Matt told me I was looking at the new camper van owner. I instantly lost it, trying to hold back tears in front of a complete stranger as they welled up and slowly fell down my cheeks. It was awkward. I walked over to our kitchen and had a good sob. I still feel really sad that it’s gone, and its already August 24th. I thought a lot about why selling it wrecked me so much, and realized it’s more than just saying goodbye to this huge passion project that I felt extremely connected to, it’s the loss of my own childhood. It’s the acceptance that now my life revolves around what is right for and works for my children, and sometimes that means letting go of the things that I love the most. The camper no longer fit us, we outgrew it. In the past few years since having kids we’ve outgrown a lot of things – our apartment we brought Hudson home to, friendships that didn’t fit anymore and we’ve morphed into (in some occasions) people we NEVER thought we’d be. On most days I wear SNEAKERS. I wake up at 6am. I’m a MOM. A mom – to TWO people. I know, I know, I’ve been a mom, and these are not new things, but sometimes it takes moments like watching your lifelong dream that you finally accomplished driving away to realize them more than ever. Matt felt the sadness too. Sea made me an embroidery of the camper a year back on my 32nd birthday, and it sits on a shelf near our bed. Matt and I looked at it the night we sold it, and talked about how growing old together and making these kinds of gut wrenching decisions together is just so bittersweet. During the last few months that we owned it, we would look at it parked outside, unable to use it, noticing new rust spots every month popping up. Now it has a new home, and will actually be out on adventures again – it should be as if a weight has been lifted off of our shoulders. In a lot of ways we do feel that, but in other ways we long for it – for the days when we could be spontaneous and carefree, and throw a few t-shirts in and be on the road. I am not sure as parents if you ever really do stop longing for those days (all while being so thankful and obsessed with your kids too, of course) but I think that’s part of why your special person is so special – to go through all of those growth moments by your side, and understand why you’re sobbing in the kitchen without any judgement.
So the camper is now sold and gone, but we have eachother, and we know something amazing is waiting for us in the future – something that will fit all four of us ( + claude).