She says, “Living in a car seems cool.” She’s right, but i am about to break a commitment to her, and i wonder how cool she’ll consider that to be.

Being on the road means knowing when to hit it. There is significance in heeding the call when it’s time to move on. i have learned this while traveling before: it is very easy to overstay one’s welcome, both within and without.

As i settled into my life in Asia forever ago, one of the first lessons i learned is that loved ones leave and that’s okay, because they’re doing what’s good for them. From the veteran expats i learned that to feel an inkling to depart means one should begin planning. They told me the seed of this transition grows whether you pay it attention or not, and it is dangerous to ignore. To linger beyond an expiration date—whether rooted in time or, more likely, one’s emotional boundaries—is to court discomfort the likes of which does no one any good. i got to witness this in people who denied their own homesickness, delayed their departure to satiate others, or stayed longer for work. People who know they should have left already are uncomfortable all the time, and unmanageable even to themselves.

So i will tell her: this is the difficult part of living in my car. Sometimes i have to leave new friends, break commitments, say goodbye. There is no better time to say goodbye than when things are still good. Still, sometimes things go sour outside of yourself instead of within. Sometimes you receive a push to depart, rather than a pull. In every situation, the call of the road is not to be ignored.

If she asks, i might tell her about being left as well as leaving. About the fluidity of the life i’ve been cultivating slowly these many years. Lovers leave me and i let them, just as i leave my lovers. We figure out how to tend our gardens, whether long distance or right in front of us. Many of my platonic and familial loves are rooted in their homes, ready to offer me welcome. Some will not offer it a second time, and that is okay too.

These relationships play out with the complexity of an epic symphony: hearts overlap in care, friendships wax and wane, and i could be the rhythm, moving through as much of it as possible. The conductor is unknown, the rests few. Once in a while a solo bursts through to bring new energy to the score. Other times it’s the entire orchestra.

It is my responsibility to keep the show going. Avoidance or denial of the obvious next steps is simply asking for trouble, within and without. Living in my car is cool as hell! Much better still when i am able to face the music.