Life in a Tent

As I rode my bike the last few days of the tour, it struck me how comfortably our tent had begun feeling like “home.”  There were times I woke up during the night and I didn’t need to remind myself that I was in a tent.  I didn’t need to deliberately remember why I was in a tent.  I didn’t have to orient myself to the makeshift surroundings.  The 8’ x 9’ dome had somehow (and unexpecetedly!) become a familiar, comfortable space with everything within reach.  The unorganized conglomeration of stuff from Week One had settled into natural resting places to the point where I could retrieve things without pause or frustration. 

I’m not sure what to make of this. 

Many parts of the tent resemble the normal things found in a house:

Bed—air mattress

Bedding—sleeping bag
Night stand—tent pockets
Closet—main compartment of the duffel bag
Hamper—small compartment on the end of duffel bag
Medicine chest—gallon-sized zip-lock bags
Top dresser drawer—small compartment on the other end of the duffel bag
Light—head lamp tied to the rip-stop loop hanging from the top of the tent
Back porch—vestibule of the tent
Shingles—rain fly
Windows with screens—zippered mesh fabric

The same question our daughter raised about her meager surroundings at her summer-job dormitory-living swims in my head.  How can this confined, stripped-down living space become a near-sanctuary?

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I was back at work today, visiting with 20 freshman advisees; many of whom feel as overwhelmed in their new setting as we felt at the beginning of Sea to Sea—not remembering which names go with which faces or which stories go with which names.  Classes start tomorrow.

I will write more about the last few days of Sea to Sea; but not tonight.  I miss the people and the simplicity of that temporary, quirky community.  I am awake 90 minutes (plus the one-hour time difference) later than my Sea to Sea bed-time. 

I wish re-entry could unravel at a slower pace.  Good night.