My Home Has No Foundation, But it Definitely Has Some Ground-breaking Stories

This blog didn’t begin with a carefully planned strategy. It began on a long stretch of highway and a decision to see where the road would lead.

Not long ago I packed my car in Arizona and drove across the country to Vermont, a place I had once called home for almost two decades. The goal was simple and deeply personal: reconnect with my grandchildren and try to rebuild an important piece of my life.

Somewhere around Joplin, Missouri, I had one of those moments every long-distance traveler understands. You’re halfway across the country, the road is quiet, and a small voice asks whether you should just turn around.

I knew my task in Vermont wouldn't be easy. Was I up for the challenge? My relationship with my grandchildren was going to be a tough one to repair. Was I up for the task?

I knew in my heart that Vermont wasn't where I wanted to be, but knew I couldn't do what I needed to do without being there. I also knew there was nothing more important in my life than my grandkids.

But when you travel this way, you learn that sometimes the only way to understand a path is to follow it all the way through. So I didn't turn around.

The visit didn’t unfold the way I had hoped. Things had become too strained between us for any hope of reconciliation. And just one month later I found myself loading the car again and driving back across the country to Arizona.

That return trip marked the beginning of a new chapter—one where my story as a nomad was completely rewritten.

Home isn't always where you expect it to be. But I have finally truly found home, even if it is still in my SUV. Because my home has no foundation, but it does have wheels, which roll, and take me wherever.

I'd love to hear you share a story about the beginning of your journey. Please leave it in the comments.