It was the year I turned twenty. Two months later my my fiance and I were married. I became a wife and instant mom (a story for another post). I left home for the first time and moved with my husband from a western state to the eastern (midwestern?) state of Ohio in the Sandusky area.

One of the first Sundays we went to church, I met a married woman in her 30’s. I don’t remember her name, but I remember the experience like it was last week. She invited us to their campsite for dinner one evening. I do not remember what we ate for dinner or much about our conversation, but I remember feeling so at home in the cozy camp chair near the fire. I remember being surprised when she told us that she and her husband didn’t have a home to go back to. The camper was their home. They seemed so laid back, without a care in the world.

He with his long hair and she with her longer hair were not scraggly looking. They wore comfortable summer shorts and had a bit of a hippy vibe that surrounded them, especially when he pulled out the guitar as the shadows lengthened across the campground. Night was falling and here we were so far from the “city” (smallish town) where I grew up, listening to him play folk songs on his guitar. I remember her voice was lower when she sang. They sang as comfortably as they spoke. That was when it became a little awkward. We are not singers, so rather than comfortably joining them in song, we nervously smiled and sang a note here and there. The did not seem to mind.

I was enthralled with their voices, but mostly with their lifestyle. That scene is indelibly burned into my mind. That is the life I wanted to live. It represented freedom and a carefree way of life on the road, stopping every few towns and staying for awhile-just long enough to meet new people, hear their stories, and gather up friends along the way. I have always wanted that. I still do.

A few years ago when I worked as a professional wedding photographer, I remember telling my husband I wanted to travel from town to town and capture in photography and in words the lives of people I meet along the way. Then I discovered “Humans of New York” and it was amazing! but, my idea was already done…it was so fun to see the photos of everyday people in New York and read their stories alongside the photos. I wanted to do the small town version of that, but the wind kind of blew out of my sails when I saw that book. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that dream still lives. However, it seems to be further back in the recesses of my mind because I am not getting any younger.

There are blogs written by people who live the “nomad” lifestyle. They are living my dream. I am sure it is not always easy on the road, but it sure seems like a lifestyle I could live, at least for awhile. When I come across a blog or vlog of someone sharing their story of that life, I live, if only for a moment, vicariously through them. It almost always takes me back nearly 40 years to that one moment, a moment I have longed to repeat…sitting around a campfire without a care in the world, enjoying the peaceful surroundings, and making new friends along the way.

Actually, it takes me back further, to my childhood days of camping with my family. Fishing in the lake and playing in the sand in the daytime. Then, sitting around the campfire under the stars eating marshmallows at night. I loved listening to the adults tell stories and reminisce about days gone by.

It brings a tear to my eye even now, knowing that is a lifestyle I long for, but will never be able to have due to my own family circumstances.

So, if you are living my dream (or even if not), give me a like and/or follow so I can read about your experiences on the road and relive that nostalgic moment I once had so very long ago.