Morning, the first day

It’s 6 am and I’m awake. In October in New England, the sun isn’t even up yet, so my body has no excuse. l always thought people were kidding about waking up so early automatically. Same as I always thought people were lying about liking the cold. “Ooh, it’s so cold out; I love it!” Oh me, too! Totally! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Just more of that dry Maine sense of humor, I thought. In the past few years, though, I’ve learned that, No, there really are people who love the cold. Just like there are actually abberent creatures (Hello! Here I am!) who wake up before dawn, in the absence of all reason. I can’t figure it out. l have nothing to do today; why am I awake before noon?

I’m trying to embrace it. I very strongly believe that we can only buck the trend of ordinary, we can only ever achieve personal greatness, we can only ever become the best version of ourselves, when we acknowledge and subsequently embrace our inalienable truths. Hence, I live in a van.

The federal government would call me homeless, but that’s not true – this van is my home. It doesn’t fit their definition, but it definitely fits mine. Here I am on my bed in my bedroom, writing. A foot from me in any given direction is my closet, my kitchen, my pantry, my studio, and my garage. A whole life in 275 square cubic feet. l’ve always loved things that were made on a smaller scale. It’s also a life in motion, and I owe a great debt to the close friend who made me face that aspect of myself. Maybe someday l’ll find one spot to call home, but it hasn’t found me yet. For now, I have wildly itchy feet and a home that comes with me. Maybe that’s like saying I love the cold; maybe you’ll think I’m joking. No hard luck led me to this, although hard luck I may find along the way. You see, this is my first day. I threw myself an amazing going-away party last night, and today my travels begin.

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