The Day We Finally Left for Our Year on the Road

There’s a strange feeling that comes with waking up on the day you leave everything familiar behind.

Not forever.
Just long enough to change you.

This morning, looked different. The bikes were strapped down. The cupboards inside the RV rattled with groceries and paper plates. Every cabinet had been reorganized three times already. Hudson, Macie and Lincoln were awake earlier than normal, bouncing between excitement and confusion, asking questions every five minutes:

“Are we really leaving today?”
“How long until we get to our first campground?”
“Where are we sleeping tonight?”
“Did we bring the fishing poles?”

And honestly?
Jessie and I were asking many of the same questions internally.

For months, this trip existed as a dream somewhere in the distance. It lived in spreadsheets, campground reservations, budget talks, YouTube videos, maps, and late-night conversations after the kids went to bed.

But today it became real.

Today we pulled out of the driveway.

The Build-Up Nobody Sees

People see the highlight reel of road trips — mountain views, campfires, national parks, and happy family photos.

What they don’t see is the exhausting process of getting there.

The selling.
The organizing.
The downsizing.
The repairs.
The endless decisions.

What do you pack for a year?
What do you leave behind?
What if the motorhome breaks down?
What if the kids hate it?
What if we hate it?

There were moments over the past few months where this entire idea felt overwhelming. Maybe even irresponsible. Trading comfort and routine for uncertainty is exciting in theory… but terrifying when departure day actually arrives.

Still, something inside us kept saying:

Go.

Not because everything was perfectly planned.
Not because we had every answer.
But because we knew we’d regret not trying.

Why We’re Doing This

We aren’t leaving because life was terrible.

We’re leaving because life was moving too fast.

Somewhere between work schedules, school routines, sports practices, screens, errands, and bills, we realized time was slipping by quicker than we wanted.

Our kids are only little once.

And while we can’t stop time, maybe we can slow it down a little.

We want more evenings around campfires.
More hikes with tired little legs.
More conversations without distractions.
More mornings outside.
More sunsets together.
More memories that don’t require perfect conditions.

This trip isn’t about escaping life.

It’s about paying attention to it.

The Emotions of Departure Day

Today felt messy emotionally.

There was excitement.
But also fear.

Freedom.
But also uncertainty.

One moment we were laughing while the kids argued over seating arrangements. The next moment we were standing in the driveway realizing how strange it felt to leave home for an entire year.

Even after all the preparation, there’s still this quiet realization:

We really have no idea what this year will become.

And maybe that’s the point.