Some of the best conversations Nathan and I have ever had happen in the truck.

Not sitting across from each other at dinner. Not during some carefully planned date night. Not because one of us said, “We need to talk.”

Usually we are just going somewhere.

Maybe we are running errands. Maybe we are headed out of town. Maybe we are on a long drive with hours ahead of us. Sometimes there isn’t even anything particularly important going on when we get in the truck, but somewhere along the way the conversation takes off.

We talk about the boys and Amara. We talk about work. We talk about my health. We talk about trips we have taken and the ones we still want to take. We talk about money, retirement, where we might want to spend our winters someday, whether we could buy a place somewhere warmer, or maybe spend part of the year there and rent out our house in Minnesota.

And lately, we talk a lot about a bigger camper.

Actually, we talk about that one all the time.

The Dream We Keep Coming Back To

Nathan and I both love being away with the camper.

Give us the woods, the mountains, or really anywhere beautiful, and we are happy. There is something about pulling into a campsite, getting everything set up, sitting outside by the fire with a drink, and realizing there is absolutely nowhere else we need to be.

We have talked so many times about getting a bigger camper and taking longer road trips. Something comfortable enough that we could both work from it when we needed to, but still be able to pick up and go.

We start talking about where we would travel.

Then where we would stop.

Then how long we could stay.

Then somehow we are planning an entire imaginary trip while we are still driving home from Menards.

That is pretty normal for us.

The truck seems to bring those conversations out because being in it reminds us of all the places we have already been together and all the places we still want to see.

We will start reminiscing about past trips and asking each other which places were our favorites. Before long, we are talking about where we should go back to and what we haven’t seen yet.

And for a little while, the future feels wide open.

Sometimes I Just Need Him to Listen

Not every conversation in the truck is about something exciting.

Sometimes I get in feeling frustrated, sad, or completely overwhelmed, and Nathan knows I need to get it out.

There has been a lot of that lately.

There have been things happening in my family that have hurt me deeply. There are days when I am angry. Days when I am confused. Days when I am simply exhausted by it.

Nathan lets me talk.

He doesn’t always try to fix it. He doesn’t tell me how I should feel. He just lets me say what I need to say until I’ve gotten some of it out of my head and chest.

He has listened while I talked about how much I miss my sister too.

There are some things grief never completely lets go of, and even after all this time there are moments when missing Jessie hits differently. Nathan has heard those thoughts before. He will probably hear them many more times.

And he still listens.

I think that is one of the things I appreciate most about our conversations. They don’t always need a solution.

Sometimes being heard is enough.

There Is Something About Having Nowhere Else to Be

I have wondered why we talk so much in the truck.

I think part of it is simply that we are alone.

There aren’t other people jumping into the conversation or offering their two cents. There aren’t ten things around the house distracting us. Nobody is walking into the room needing something.

It is just the two of us sitting side by side.

There is something easier about talking that way too.

You aren’t sitting across from each other waiting for the other person to answer. You are both looking ahead, watching the road, and the conversation can just wander wherever it wants to go.

One subject leads to another.

A song reminds us of something. A place we drive past brings up a memory. One of us mentions a trip, which leads to talking about retirement, which somehow leads to where we would live, which leads right back to the camper again.

Eventually we look at each other and realize we have basically planned the next ten years of our lives somewhere between Foley and wherever we were headed.

Whether any of those plans actually happen exactly the way we imagine them doesn’t really matter.

Talking about them together does.

We Really Don’t Fight That Much

This might sound lame, but Nathan and I really don’t disagree about a whole lot.

Especially when it comes to our future, we are usually on the same page.

That doesn’t mean we agree about everything. Of course we don’t.

When we see something differently, we usually both say what we are thinking and figure it out from there. I don’t see much point in turning a disagreement into something bigger than it needs to be.

And honestly, the truck may be the perfect place to work something out anyway.

Neither one of us can storm off.

We are stuck in there together.

So we might as well figure it out, because otherwise it is going to be a really long drive.

Maybe that is part of what I love about those conversations too. There is time to actually finish them.

There isn’t always an easy escape or some distraction waiting to interrupt. We talk until we understand where the other person is coming from, and usually we find a place we are both comfortable with.

I think that has brought us closer over the years.

The Life We Imagine Together Keeps Changing

When Nathan and I first got together, the future looked completely different than it does now.

We were raising boys. Life was busy. There were practices, school, work, bills, appointments, and all the chaos that comes with raising a family.

Now the boys are grown. We have a granddaughter. Our conversations are different.

We talk more about what we want the next chapter of our own life to look like.

Maybe someday that means spending winters somewhere in the South.

Maybe it means having a second home somewhere warm.

Maybe it means keeping Minnesota as home base and traveling more.

Maybe it means buying that bigger camper we keep talking about and spending weeks at a time on the road, working when we need to and exploring when we don’t.

We don’t have all of it figured out.

But I love that we are still dreaming together.

After more than twenty years, we aren’t only talking about what we have already built.

We are still asking, “What do we want to do next?”

Maybe You Have a Place Like This Too

Maybe your best conversations don’t happen in a truck.

Maybe they happen while walking the dog.

Maybe they happen after the kids go to bed, when the house finally gets quiet.

Maybe they happen sitting on the porch, lying in bed, driving to the grocery store, having coffee in the morning, or taking a walk together.

I don’t think the place itself is really the important part.

I think it is having somewhere the rest of the world quiets down enough for two people to actually hear each other.

For Nathan and me, that place just happens to have four wheels.

Some of those conversations have been serious. Some have been painful. Some have made us laugh. Some have helped us make decisions. And a ridiculous number of them have involved planning camper trips we haven’t taken yet.

But over the years, all of those miles and all of those conversations have added up to something.

They have helped us understand each other better.

They have given us room to dream.

They have given me somewhere to unload the things I am carrying when life feels heavy.

And they have reminded me again and again that I really like the person sitting beside me.

So when we climb into the truck and head somewhere together, I never really know what we are going to end up talking about.

I just know that somewhere between home and wherever we are going, there is a pretty good chance we will solve a problem, plan another road trip, reminisce about an old one, dream about retirement, talk about our family, laugh about something stupid, or decide—again—that we really do need a bigger camper.

And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.