He is the planner,
planning routes and stops,
measuring distances, researching
particulars, focused on specifics
I am the organizer,
organizing a mass cull,
distribution of worldly possessions
to kids, goodwill, or garage sales
He is the scheduler,
I am the communicator,
answering emails, phone calls
reassuring family left behind
We lose each other
in the preparation scramble,
absorbed as we are in personal
agendas, anxious for departure.
The future is unknown,
we have committed to the leap,
replaced obligations with openness,
are setting sail on a new adventure.
We are questers,
questing after discovery,
retreating from a weighty past
leaving judgment in our dust.
We are travellers,
traveling off the beaten track,
chasing vibrant panoramas,
a close proximity to nature’s best.
(This poem appeared last November, as my husband and I, having sold our house and possessions, headed for the great beyond in our motor home. The experience surpassed any of our expectations. Not sure when or where the wind will blow us this year, but Manic Mondays 3 way prompt, departing, has sparked the memories and itch to hit the road.)