A year ago I agreed to go on holiday with a good friend of mine. We start making plans to go to an event called Burning Man which takes place in the Nevada desert. I’ve been before and know what to expect but my friend is completely new to the experience. Burning Man is a mixture of art, free expression and pitting yourself against the elements. For the 50,000 participants who gather each year in Black Rock City it is a fully immersive experience which stimulates all the senses and seems to have an impact which lasts long after everyone has packed up and headed home.
It’s an expensive trip which takes a lot of organising and I seriously debate whether I should just put the trip aside and just get on with my baby plans? After much consideration I finally decide that to get my head into the right space for moving forward – one last trip on my own terms is probably a good thing, besides – I’ve already bought the ticket!
We’ve booked our flights, we’ve booked our RV (Recreational Vehicle) and we head over to the States. In San Francisco we rent a big Hummer truck and drive down Highway 1, stopping at Monterey, Carmel and Big Sur and then heading back up to San Francisco. From there we drop off our truck and pick up our even more enormous RV and start the drive east to the Nevada desert.
As my friend doesn’t drive at all it falls to me to manage the beast of a vehicle which is the RV. Whilst it is something of a trial, I can’t help feeling that I am passing some test of my own resilience and this is important because I am constantly aware of all the trials which are before me as a potential single Mum and it feels good to know that I am capable of coping on my own. I can’t help imagining bringing my child on a trip like this sometime in the future – I wonder if they would love it as much as I do?
We leave Reno, the last bastion of civilization and start heading out to the desert, the dust and Black Rock City so named for sitting in the shadow of the Black Rock Mountains. It’s a good week, I feel like I’m experiencing a rite of passage, letting go of the past and getting ready for the future. At 43 years of age I’ve spent a long time doing what I want, when I want it. The thought of that freedom coming to an end fills me with fear but I am ready. After one great night out with close friends, I find myself sitting on top of my RV watching the sun rise over the mountains – I feel like I am letting go of something – I think if things work out – I will never again be able to feel this level of independence without the responsibility of another person. It is a daunting thought, but also, a positive one.
I have come back to London, somewhat emotional (as we all are) but ready to move on.
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