Would we ever have adventures if we always had something to live for? Some of us would, I am sure. Some are always giving it their best shot, always repeating, “it’s now or never.” But timid, conscientious rule bound folks like me, would we ever have adventures if we always had something to live for?

She was packing up her minimal overnight cargo bag in the basement of her oldest son’s sleekly remodeled home. One of the last items she folded into the bag was a silk robe – straight from China and straight from China Town. She has considered it part of her wardrobe now for 13 years – used only for light travel – and therefore hung in the back of the closet, unused for much of the intervening time. 

2009. That was the year she took off and traveled solo, caught the train to San Francisco, booked a cheap hotel sight unseen, rode the connecting bus from the train station across the Golden Gate Bridge and to her lodging and spent three days exploring the heart of San Francisco, the crooked street, the wharf, the pier. That was the year the sea lion rose out of the water for her and her alone – no one else was on the misty pier – and blew her a kiss. That was the year she forgot to pack a robe. She needed one. Not for her solo motel room. Not for the train. But her next stop was Washington and Seattle where she would be staying with cousins. A robe would be necessary. She purchased a silk robe. She traveled forward, visited cousins and an aunt.

She returned to Colorado glad to have had the experience. Glad to have taken the risk. She went on to take many more risks because she had nothing left to lose. Her kids were grown, gone from home. Her 20-year marriage was over. She had, quite literally not a thing for which she had to be overly responsible. For eleven years she lived alone. She lived and hiked and adventured and worked in beautiful places. Seattle. Utah. Arizona. Once again, Colorado.

These days she hikes and kayaks and plays music and writes and has a great roommate and new friends. Old friends come to visit and hike and explore. Life is good. But as she packs the silk robe from China Town, she asks herself, am I still ready and willing, eager, game for new adventures? Solitary adventures? A little bit of risk? Or has life become so sweet; do I have so much to live for that I can no longer step out of my box and risk a little?