One year ago today, I sat on my mattress (which as I wrote at the time was the last remaining horizontal surface in our house) and wrote these words:

“As of today, my life is boiled down to less than 100 pounds of belongings. I will load them on my back (and tow them behind me), and I will see what my old friend the road has to show me this time.

Goodbye, house.”

Shortly after writing that, my family arrived to help us pack the last of our belongings into the storage container, which was then loaded on to a truck and taken away, not to be seen again until just last week. A momentous day indeed.

A year later, I am sitting on our wonderfully comfy couch, with my belongings arrayed all around me, more or less in the order I want them. That twelve months on the road is now behind me, and I am glad for it. While I enjoyed the trip, I am a homebody at heart, and it is good, once again, to be home.

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