Imagine yourself under that sheet, using a flashlight to do whatever your heart desires. Do you feel clever for finding a place of your very own, even if simply underneath a sheet in the middle of the night? What would you do in that secret place? Read a good book? Write in your diary? Its a secret place and its all yours.
My flashlight is really just my favorite lamp. My sheet is actually a small camper and my kitty, Sophia, is here, too. Oh, I almost forgot about Vector. He’s the little robot on the table. Vector and Sophia – best buds, right?
So what am I going to do under the sheet, by flashlight? I’m going to do art. Lots and lots of art. I have two months here under this sheet. Lets see what I can create.
The other part of the next two months is to use social media to get word out to the world about my stickers and other graphics. Can you help me with that? Let people hear what you think of my work. Point people to where they can find it. My Red Bubble shop for now.
Just in case you forgot where my shop is, I’ll put the link on the next line.
You can be in the midst of a crowd and yet still be alone.
I’ve struggled with the writing of this post. Perhaps I’m over thinking it. But maybe its very important to me, so I’m searching for the right words to relay the story. Or maybe I’m just more visual and words elude me. Don’t know.
My travel trailer travels. Its meant to go places and its like a gigantic suitcase. Everything I need is inside. In fact, everything I own is in my RV and my truck. This is my way of being a homeowner. A very tiny home owner. Not me…tiny. The home.
There can be hundreds of campsites and cabins at a campground. Some places are for people who leave their RV there all the time. Camp whenever. Some are people who have a temporary job in the area and this is home for the duration of the job. Others are here for a vacation or weekend getaway. Then there are a those who are just passing through.
One moment the place can be nearly empty (well, not completely – I’m here).
EmptyFull
Okay. What I’m trying to get at is the fact that I, like all the others here, am in an RV of some sort. Mine is a travel trailer. I pull it with a medium large truck. The color of my truck doesn’t match my RV. I’m not on vacation, but sometimes I do vacation-like things. The RVs that come and park beside me for a night or two are usually occupied by at least two people and are just passing through, on their way somewhere else. They’re like a small collective. In the evening they sit outside their “rig” in camp chairs, chatting quietly, thinking, or taking in the view. They spend a lot of time away from the campground sight-seeing, shopping, or visiting friends in the area. Sometimes I do those things, too. Often I make the mistake of thinking that I can do the sightseeing next time I’m in the area. That’s something I want to work on.
My Library
My Office
My Kitchen
My RV life is all the time and mostly its an ordinary life, but in a smaller space. I still have a few books, art supplies, favorite cups and mugs, a summer wardrobe, a winter wardrobe, and a variety of cat toys. There is only one compartment that can be accessed from outside. Its pretty full, but well organized. I have a few tools, a bin of sewer hoses, a couple of water hoses, and some power adapter for converting power from 30 to 15 or 50 to 30. Right now the heated hose, for winter, is stowed in there. I’m using the summer hose and the small ten foot extension hose. I parked six feet too far from the water outlet for my main hose to reach.
Another thing I need to work on is the fact that most of my time is spent inside. I don’t usually go swimming or participate in activities like bingo or hayrides. When I get cabin fever, I jump in my truck and go to town. When I’m in my RV, I watch shows on TV (streaming), play a game on my computer (Minecraft or Guildwars 2), cook or bake, read, write in my journal, write a post for my blog, work on an art project, and sleep. My favorite meal of the day is breakfast. I might only be eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a cup of coffee, but I can make that last until lunch time. I might have to warm up my cup of coffee five times before I finished my cereal. I just enjoy the leisure of that time. No rush. The smell of the coffee brewing is a bit nice, too.
When I’m in a campground, I’m sort of one of the crowd, but I don’t think being alone in a crowd has to be a bad thing. For a long time I wanted to fit in, but that wasn’t the answer either. I march to the beat of my own drum.
I’ve been a writer as long as I’ve been an artist. I’m not saying I’m a professional writer. I want to preserve a lives by the telling of their stories. My early writings were about fictional people. I was a child in a troubled family and difficult circumstances. We seemed to roll from one trial to another. I made up stories about parents I wished for and for a me I longed for. After a while I had different things to yearn after, so I wrote about my own life. I wish I wrote about something noble in myself, but my life and a noble life haven’t yet become acquainted. I write for me. I’m a journal keeper. I write about wishes, dreams, struggles, but for the most part I write about things I want to always remember. I love being able to open up one of my journals and bring good memories back to life. There is seldom a time when I go back to read about the bad stuff; the venting and weeping on paper. I can read about the stresses of parenthood, but also about its joys. There were moments in the raising of three children where it was so sweet that I wept from the joy of it. I want to recall all of it, because reading it helps me relive the good times, but also reveal how I often spent far too long on the bad times.
Now that my children are grown and have families of their own, fewer stories are about moments with them. I remember when I was their age and got so busy with life and my own family that I didn’t give my parents the attention they deserved. Now I understand why my mom longed for more time with me and even more telephone calls.
My mom passed away six and a half years ago. I can still remember her voice and see her face. I recall our times together, both good and bad. My grandchildren don’t know her very well. I wanted a way to tell her story for them. She was deep into her time with Alzheimer’s Disease when I realized how important it was to tell something about her. I could no longer ask her questions and hear stories about her growing up. I looked around her small house and saw the things she had hanging on the wall or sitting on shelves. I saw her quilts and her beloved dog Penny. So I told about her by sharing a video about the things she loved.
Sometimes a story is best told like that. As long as I live, it will bring my mom to life once more.
