Imagine a little old lady and her rubber tree plant, living in a VW Camper with no vacuum cleaner, curling iron, or closet. Every night she sleeps in view of the stars, never twice in the same location. Imagine all the room she has in her head for the people she meets, the stories she shares, and the incredible weightlessness of knowing she never has to dust anything.
I could not aspire to become quite that unconcerned about living without my treasures all around me, but it doesn’t hurt to start redefining what a treasure really is….people are always more important than things. Unless you’re a rubber tree plant riding shotgun with a little old lady in a Microbus, offering nothing but high hopes. For no other reason than the fact that other RV full-timers found her life amusing, she has found immortality; even if she hasn’t breathed upon this earth for two dozen years.
I like to think that she memorialized her life in a digital blog as she boon-docked her way across the country. And the rubber tree plant laughed all night long as she sat by the fire, recreating the stories that fed her life and filled her private library. But I don’t even know her name. Ann Onnie Ms or something. When I hit the road, I’m going to look for her, and if I can’t find her, I will become her.