The Baja segment of our adventure is just a couple hours from coming to an end. We had to leave earlier than planned to take care of some vital tax forms that can only be filled out with information that is locked away deep in our storage unit in Oregon. It feels bizarre, surreal even, to be driving home. Our favorite spots felt so comfortable and we felt so at home that I guess I just believed that we would be down here forever.
Just as I felt nervous about the unknown when we first arrived, I now feel tense and apprehensive about going back up. It’s one thing to fall into the lap of relaxed bliss when one is living simply in paradise, and another altogether to find tranquility and inner peace when surrounded by the allure of the first world pace.
Andrew and I have begun to discuss how we will set up our lives back home to best support a balanced life. Some pieces feel obvious. We are totally clear that we won’t have any more TV programming in our home. We also want to make sure we end up in a small residence so that we don’t become slaves to a large house again. At the same time, there are several pieces that feel unclear at this point. Will we have internet in the house? Will we live right in town or out a little ways? Will we try to squeeze into a 2 bedroom or will we need a 3 bedroom when our son comes home from school for the summer?
In many ways it feels like the real work in this experiment begins in earnest now. Being down in Baja for these months was the perfect opportunity for us to reconnect with ourselves and with our daughter. That is something I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. We learned most about ourselves by living with the very least. In the end, we came away with priceless gifts. Now it will take commitment and regular conversations to keep the dialogue open and to support each other as we feel the temptations of the old ways creeping back in. In the meantime, with each passing mile, we offer sad goodbyes to this beautiful land we have grown to call home.