nomadland

I have been drawn to the trailers for the Frances McDormand Netflix film Nomadland. First of all, the woman is a damned genius and I have loved everything she has been in. But also, like her character in the film, we were embarking on this big adventure. So I find kinship when I see the trailer. Much like the indominable Frances McDormand, we were about to face a lot of unknowns, a bunch of obstacles, and our fair share of naysayers. But, again just like Ms. M., we have a strong desire to see our adventure through. At least, that’s what I get from the trailer.

Since telling family and friends, we have been met with varying responses. We spent an entire lunch with a girlfriend who could not stop saying “I am just so excited for you guys!”. Others are more apprehensive – juggling their concerns for our safety in a country with considerable bad press (in certain parts – not the one we will be living in), with their fear of how our friendships would continue to thrive once we put miles on them. Many were just damned confused. We get it. It’s a bit off brand for us.

But we did it anyway. We took the big swing. After months of planning, the painful culling of belongings, three weeks of good-bye-ing, two days of movers, three pods headed internationally, a four-day estate sale, the longest hug from my parents, and the best damned socially-distanced goodbye party ever, we headed out for Mexico.

Tales from the trip, including the flat tire, the ticket, my bare minimum AirBnB standards, how the dogs did, who we interacted with, what we bickered about, and the Mexican toll road system are all teed up for other posts. Tonight, on our last night before we land in our new home, with three dogs asleep at my feet, I am just going to reflect on the moving of it all.

The five of us are creatures of habit. This entire move has been one hell of a stretch for us. God, committing to selling the house we have been in for the past 18 years was one hell of a stretch, the rest of this is just a continuous groin pull.

Five places, five states, two countries, six nights.

That is about as nomad-like as any of these Nedveds get. We are magnificent creatures of habit. In the past six days/five nights, no one has gotten a sound night’s sleep. One of us went on strike and refused to pee for 24 hours. Most of our meals have been purchased at a gas station. It’s hotter than we thought, more cramped than we thought, we have gotten lost/turned around more than we thought. Last night someone had a mini breakdown because the last straw was the party across the street where the neighbors were playing their accordions. In my defense, the dogs are apparently afraid of accordions. But, tonight, all of that is literally, and figuratively, behind us. The bad meals, the wrong roads, the boxes toppling on the dogs during a sharp turn. The accordions. Because, tonight, there is only the prayer for a decent night’s sleep and one winding jungle highway between us and the finish line.

I think we are going to make it.