I have felt guilty for a lot of things in my life as a mother.
Working too much, not spending enough quality time with my kids. Placing them in daycare when I used to be a Stay-at-home-mom. But I wonder where this new dream came from.
I was sitting at work, in December wanting out of my current job, out of my current situation. I've been writing books since I graduated high school in 2010. But I probably have been writing stories since I was able to formulate sentences with a pencil on paper. There was an ache that wasn't going to leave my conscious wonder state quietly. It didn't even nag, it was an open door showing me the sunshine outside.
Travel was never on my list of things to accomplish in my life. It wasn't the main focal point on my horizon. I wanted to see places but I figured if it happens, it does. I wasn't going to make it a priority until now.
I have had various dreams, and sometimes I see them blessed to other people. This journey I am taking with my kids is a dream I barely conceived. But there is was a beautiful possibility, of could I and would I?
So I checked out the maps, I scoured for tips, on campers, camping, hotels, all the accommodations. And soon the ideas came and the peace kept flowing.
When I was little my father would take my sisters and brothers and I, camping near a place called Deer Creek by Henry's Lake. There is this mountain, you pass on the road. My dad would tell us this story about an Indian who laid down to sleep. In the picture below you can see his face. I loved the folklore, the story behind the environment. Everywhere has footprints of the story.
