Last week, we hit the road. No work for an entire week and the only thing in front of us were farms, the promise of BBQ from little hole in the wall places, and the realization that we didn't really have anything pulling us back to work. Paradise.
I love road trips. I love the time that I get to think, to sort out all of things sitting dormant inside of me, and to dream about the details and future that I only get to grasp every once in a while when life slows down a bit and the office life isn't dragging me down. I was counting down to this trip for weeks, months. The countdown began somewhere around 80 days to go or so. I needed a vacation. We needed a vacation.
We had one plan in mind: to visit this shop, where vintage dreams come true and where my creativity seemed to have a fire lit underneath it.
Driving somewhere we've never been forces me to find some clarity. I wrote lists upon lists. Inspiration hit me like a freight train. After the last few months, I needed creativity to pulse through my veins once again. I needed to not sit at a desk for countless hours a day, all the while allowing my dreams to sit quietly next to me.
|This book challenged me to my core.|
It rained nearly most of our trip but I didn't mind. Rain has been a massive force in my life. It has washed me clean, metaphorically and literally, for many years when I lived in the northwest. It is the sign of creativity, a sort of nostalgic sigh of the life I once had and the life I now am blessed enough to live.