Am I really doing this?

     Am I really doing this?? Details are coming together quickly now and it's starting to feel surreal. It only took me about fifteen minutes to set up my cart when it arrived yesterday and within a few more minutes I had it straining at the seams with supplies. There's an electric excitement that comes with things like this. Looking at my cart all packed up and ready to go, I ask myself again, "Am I really doing this?" Can I really live out of this little metal-frame stroller? ...for years at a time? I've downsized before, even living in my car for nearly a year, but this is pushing it! Literally, this time. I keep remembering things I need and I keep stuffing them into the cart until I feel ready to go. It's just an overnight trial, but I'm mentally preparing myself for the real thing. I plug in my headphones and start playing my latest favorite Bible teacher as I roll into the unknown.
     The cart rolls nicely, steers a little rough and resists the hills, but nothing too bad. It's already dark and heavily overcast. The city lights and paved sidewalk of Brewer eventually turn into crumbling shoulders and dark country roads of Orrington. I switch on my flashlight whenever vehicles approach. Getting run-over isn't in my to-do list for tonight.
     I'm already dragging by 10:30 when I reach a good place to camp for the night. Just as I start unpacking my tent the rain begins without warning and quickly turns into a downpour. It would have been wise to practice setting up my new tent earlier, but I didn't know I'd be figuring it out in driving rain! By the time I get the fly tied down the tent floor already has puddles and rivulets of rainwater for me to sleep on. I am very much looking forward to cooking up a steaming pot of canned soup and going to sleep, so I throw my gear into the tent and zip myself inside. Everything is cold and clammy, so I set about to heat up my soup. Drat! I forgot the camping stove! I guess it's cold soup out of the can for tonight. The sleeping bag is sticky inside from the rain water, and the electric excitement that I started out with is slightly dampened as well, but this is what I signed up for. It's part of the story that is only just beginning.
     It rained steadily all night, and when morning came I had to stand in the rain and wring water out of my things so that they would fit back into my cart. If the weather had been nice I might have continued on, but it's only my first trial-run and I think I've built enough character for now. In soggy boots and dripping clothes, I trudge silently back to my dry tool shed with a newly-answered question settled in my mind, "Yes, I am doing this! If it pours every step of the way to Argentina, I am doing this!"