I planned to stay in the White Mountains in New Hampshire for three months, maybe four. I had grand plans to roadtrip around the American Southwest and then run off to Southeast Asia. But we all know how the story goes from here… the coronavirus took over and altered the paths of so many people. For me, that meant another six months in this small room in rural New Hampshire.
I did not fully move in until I realized that I would be staying for a long time. I finally hung photographs and my vision board. I spent money I planned to use for train tickets on house plants and I started a garden. I added the ingredients of “home” and waited out the pandemic, first next to the woodstove, and when the weather warmed, with my hands in the soil. It was the contentedness and safety of home, for better and for worse.
When the opportunity to drive across the country presented itself, I knew that I couldn’t pass it up. So I took down the wall hangings and said goodbye to the room that I loved, yet had been longing to leave.
