Reflections Between Storms

 

Chapter 60 – Admin, Pasta, and Pea Ridge Reflections

Coming off the high of Nelson’s birthday weekend was tough—perfect campsite, weather, and food made it feel almost magical. Back in reality, I started the week with chores at Crystal Bridges. I signed an indemnity letter in front of a (virtual) notary along with Cooper. Normally I’d be bashful, but needing reliable WiFi, I took the video call from the café while everyone around me chatted and ate. At the same time, I finalized landlord insurance for our New York condo. So much admin! I really don’t know how I ever balanced this alongside a full-time job. No wonder I used to be constantly stressed.


After that, I treated myself to pasta carbonara. It used to be my go-to dish when Nelson traveled, so it felt comforting to make it again. I picked up some fresh Rana pasta at Walmart and cooked it in the parking lot of the Walton Fitness Center. Somehow, even out of the kitchen, it turned out delicious.


Tuesday brought more admin duties—an 8 a.m. appointment at the RAM dealership for a safety recall. I yawned my way through the drive (and somehow ended up at the Buick dealership first... they all look the same to me). The service took a couple of hours, the staff were friendly, and free donuts and coffee helped make the early wake-up worthwhile. Compared to the impatient New York version of myself, I realized I had become remarkably chill living in the south.


Following my “Exploration Tuesday” tradition, I visited Pea Ridge National Military Park. I expected a lot of guns and military jargon, but instead, it was a surprisingly engaging history lesson. The visitor center’s short film set the stage for the March 7, 1825 battle, and the preserved battlefield, driving tour, and relics made the history tangible.


I was fascinated by the complexity of the situation. Missouri was part of the Union, Arkansas switched sides twice in 1861, and the volunteer armies were fighting for deeply held beliefs about their homes and way of life. The National Park Service presented the story neutrally, with surprisingly little focus on slavery, which made me reflect on the broader context of how people understood loyalty, law, and community. It reminded me that even centuries later, debates over governance and personal freedom still resonate in the U.S.


Walking the battlefield was humbling. The Elkhorn Tavern and memorials honoring veterans from both sides were particularly moving. Seeing the reunion monuments from 1889, which commemorated both “the untarnished Blue” and “the unsullied Grey,” left me unexpectedly hopeful—history can be divisive, but reconciliation is possible.


By the end of the day, I realized that vanlife admin, early appointments, and cooking parking-lot pasta felt much more manageable after seeing the courage, conviction, and endurance of people from another time.

Chapter 61 – Groceries and Rainstorms

Wednesday meant chores—washing sheets, coaching call, Greek meatballs for dinner. By Thursday, it was back to grocery runs: Walmart, Asian Amigo, Bass Pro Shop. Our tiny fridge only holds three days of produce, so stocking up for the weekend takes military-style planning. (Bonus finds: Taiwanese ice pops and HK buns.)


Lunch at Panda Express led to a spontaneous Home Depot trip. I was supposed to look at insulation but got distracted by life-sized Halloween skeletons that let you record custom voice messages. Only in America! I walked out empty-handed on insulation, but with plenty of spooky decoration ideas.


A storm rolled in as I dashed back to the van, towel at the ready for our sometimes-leaky window. By evening, we were parked at Lake Leatherwood City Park Campground. It was dark, we were hungry, and dinner was just sandwiches and soup. The place had charm though: a giant concrete picnic table tall enough for ogres, and a CCC-era bathhouse painted with cheerful flowers and whimsical shower curtains. It was like showering in a children’s storybook.



Chapter 62 – Fishing Bros, Candlelight, and Cozy Rain

Friday: Nelson worked while I scouted the lake, full of lily pads and geese. Later we met Ivan and Michael—two fishing bros with enough lures to open a store. They happily lent Nelson proper gear (our trout line was laughable) and even taught an 8-year-old boy, Jacob, how to fish. I ended up chatting with Jacob’s 81-year-old grandpa Richard, a volunteer firefighter who thought wars were “silly” but loved telling stories, and we bonded over our shared fear of earthquakes. I caught nothing, but it was one of those golden evenings. Dinner was slow-stewed beef noodle soup, served in shiny new oversized Chinese bowls—because vanlife deserves proper noodle capacity.


Saturday it rained nonstop. Instead of “exploring,” we leaned into coziness: scrambled eggs, salmon, ukulele, books, Diptyque candles, and a smoky but delicious pan-fried chicken dinner inside the van. We watched movies, showered in the rain, and realized it was our first Saturday doing absolutely nothing. Honestly? It felt amazing.


Sunday, we lingered at the campsite until checkout, then tried fishing in a foggy creek off Beaver Lake. The couple next to us pulled out trout every five minutes while we got nothing. A kind stranger even offered us his catch, which I declined—too much effort to clean fish before stealth-camping week. As the skies opened up again, we drove out in a downpour, stopped for Chicken Lai Lai, and ended the weekend cozy, fed, and grateful.



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