Welcome to another week of life on the road. I’m Genie Leslie, a freelance writer working remotely and traveling the country with my husband.
This week, we’re in New Orleans, enjoying food, ghost tours, and swamp tours.
Well, friends and readers, I seem to have neglected you all for the past month. A lot was happening, but writing was not.
The truth is, I could just repeat the theme of my last post and tell you all about the last month of family time—making it to New Orleans, where my younger sister lives; helping her and her then-fiancé-now-husband(!) move chairs and tables in preparation for their wedding; hosting various family members in our Airbnb in between their hotel stays; attending not just a wedding but also a rehearsal dinner and a welcome party; talking to and laughing with so many family members that I don’t see enough of.
I could also write an entire post just about the day before the wedding, when my older sister and I went frantically shopping for appropriate and supportive bridesmaid-dress undergarments (I needed a good bra, y’all) while also trying to write our wedding toast to our younger sister and her betrothed, a task very difficult to accomplish when the two of you are working together to fit one of you into a bodysuit while laughing hysterically and trying so desperately not to pee in your pants. Like any good day with my sister, we went from stressed to annoyed to stressed again to laughing like hyenas, all in the span of about three hours.
But instead, I’ve been thinking about something else. I’ve been thinking about a lot of the conversations Aaron and I have had with people over this last year, and especially in the last couple of months when we’ve been around so much family. A response we get, pretty consistently is, “I’m so jealous of your lifestyle right now.” Or, “I wish I could do what you’re doing.”
I always want to respond with some version of “You could! You could do it right now!” But that feels a little callous. There are plenty of reasons people don’t live the way we’re living right now—community ties to the place they live in, healthcare needs, childcare or pet-care needs, inability to do their jobs remotely, differences in income, the list can go on. I understand that it’s not for everyone, just like it won’t be for us forever.
However, sometimes people go deeper. They tell us where we should go next. “You’ve got to try Asheville,” they say, or “Have you been to Denver yet?” And when they go on, no matter the reasons they state or the words they use, the answer is really the same: because that’s where they want to go.
I don’t say that with any malice or bitterness. Aaron and I know where we want to go, and no one is going to convince to go somewhere we’re not interested in (well, except for Tucson, and we won’t make that mistake again). I don’t mean this to sound like I’m annoyed or frustrated with these responses; if anything, I’m fascinated.
When someone tells us they want to go to Asheville, we learn a little bit more about them; they like the mountains, maybe, or they like a big town/small city that feels populated and interesting but not overwhelming. Denver? Certainly tells me that they don’t have mountain panic or any qualms about snowy winters. When they tell us that they’d really love to save some money, quit their job, and backpack around Asia for a few months, we know they have a sense of adventure and curiosity about the world.
And what’s best about these conversations is seeing a different side of people, sometimes family members I’ve known my whole life, sometimes a new friend that I’m just getting to know. Their eyes light up and they’re telling me about their dream—something they’d love to do or see, an entirely new possibility that they’d love to pursue. They tell us about the museums or historical sites they know about in that place, and I can just picture them, late at night, reading about this place on their phones or computers, daydreaming about traveling there. And for a moment I can share in that joy and that anticipation with them. That place does sound cool! That castle is fascinating, it would be amazing to see it!
It’s an honor and a privilege to have people share these dreams and desires with us.
Which makes it sad when, sometimes, the light in their eyes fades as they start talking themselves out of it. “I could never.” “When would I be able to do that?” “It’s probably not even affordable.” “I wouldn’t want to stall my career momentum.” All valid reasons, certainly, but not necessarily insurmountable. And I don’t know what to say in these moments. Be encouraging that they could go? Assure them that it’s okay if they don’t? Remind them that they can travel to places on much shorter trips than a year-long road trip across the country? Sure. I can, and I do. But a feeling lingers...
This past weekend was special for several reasons. November 17 is mine and Aaron’s wedding anniversary, and it’s also close enough to our original dating anniversary that we celebrate both at the same time. This year, it was 5 years married and 14 years together.
But the day after, November 18, is an entirely different anniversary, and one I don’t talk about as much anymore. It’s the anniversary of a friend’s death, a good friend who died suddenly and unexpectedly our senior year of high school. It’s been a long time since she passed, and every year feels different. Some years I think about her a lot. Some years I think about her the week before or the week after, but not on the day. At least one year, almost a month went by before I realized I’d missed the date, and was hit with a wave of horrible guilt that I could’ve forgotten for so long.
This year, Aaron and I were celebrating our anniversary on Saturday instead of Friday, so on the 18th instead of the 17th. It wasn’t until I looked at Instagram late that night, that someone’s post reminded me of the day. And reminded me that this year was the 18th anniversary; that she’s now been gone for one year longer than she lived.
The unfairness of that hit number really hit me in the gut. I’ve lived 35 years on this planet, and she only got 17. I’ve gone to college, gotten married, moved to a new city, and now traveled to many. She should have, too. She deserved all of it and so much more.
Life is short as it is, even when you’re lucky enough to avoid accidents, violence, or early disease. And yes, I feel this post moving into cheesy or cliched territory, but look, the cliches do exist for a reason. Life is short. Opportunities to make the most of it can be fleeting. We don’t know how many we’ll get.
When I talk to people about their travel, job, or lifestyle dreams that they want to pursue but can’t, the feeling lingers. The feeling that they should go, should try, should change. Because why the hell not? Fear doesn’t go away, grief doesn’t go away, and time moves forward no matter what. Life will throw great and horrible changes at you whether you’re pursuing something or not, whether you’re on the road or not. So why the hell not shoot for the moon?
And so, to everyone reading, and to anyone who’s expressed a hidden desire for a change or an adventure to me in the last year:
Do it. Go do it. Do all of it, do some of it, do a variation of it. Taking the leap is scary—and continues to be scary the whole time, quite honestly—but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Your dream is worth it. Embracing a change is worth it.
Your adventure is worth it.
What else is going on?
As previously mentioned, baby sister got married and I was more social in one weekend than I’ve been in a year. It was amazing, it was fun, and I was completely exhausted after.
We took a swamp tour! It was really cool. If you’re ever in New Orleans, check out Cajun Encounters, we highly recommend it.
We also took a ghost tour, which left me wanting to read about five different books about New Orleans history to learn more.
Congratulations little sister ❤️🎂🥳