A Slower Day on the Road

Just a tiny pink dot in a big, beautiful world.

Yesterday was a slower day. A day to just be.

I took a beautiful walk with Kuna, our husky, along the river that winds through the resort. The mountains surrounded us in every direction — it felt like the whole world had slowed down just enough to breathe it all in.

Back at the bus, we made waffles for the first time in our cast iron waffle maker. We were a bit hesitant at first, unsure if it would work on our little stove. But once the pan got hot, it worked perfectly. Golden, crispy edges… and we all agreed: this was very cool.

Later, we needed an oil change and lucked out — we found a place that took us in without an appointment, and even let us stay in the bus while they did the work. It was a little surreal, sitting in our home while it was being serviced like a car.

After that, we headed up the mountain and had a simple lunch — fried egg on naan and toast, with a view.

Simon stayed up there to explore some higher elevation trails while the girls and I wandered back down into the local library. It was calm, cozy, and just the kind of soft landing the day needed.

Stories inside, adventures outside.

We ended the day with steak on the BBQ, some garlic butter pasta, and a side of crisp asparagus. As the sun set, a couple from the RV resort came by to admire our bus. They told us their granddaughter’s favorite color is pink and asked to take a photo to show her. We got to chatting, and before we knew it, they’d invited us over for a drink in their big camper. What was meant to be a quick visit turned into a beautiful, spontaneous evening of conversation and connection.

During dinner, we had mentioned that we could watch a movie together later. It wasn’t a set plan, just a sweet idea floating in the air — but the girls had held onto it with quiet excitement. By the time we got back to the bus, it was too late, and they were really disappointed. I felt it in my chest — that deep, familiar tug of mom guilt. We hadn’t made a promise, but to them, it still felt like something we took away.

It’s one of those parenting moments where your heart is pulled in two directions — grateful for the joy of unexpected connection, but aching when your kids feel let down. We talked it through, snuggled close, and agreed to carve out a special movie night soon — with extra popcorn and all of us curled up together.

Even the slow, beautiful days come with small reminders of what really matters — presence, connection, and the promises we make to each other. That’s the heart of the road.