When I started this trip, I thought only about getting away—from the house, the garden, Broomfield, the Denver area—to see new places, have new experiences, meet new people, work on my photography, work on Todd’s movies. All that has happened.

But I think there’s something that develops when you travel with a companion that I didn’t anticipate. With friends far away and some hobbies a little more difficult to practice on the road, the other person becomes your main source of companionship and entertainment. That can foster something that feels like dependence.

In our old life, Todd used to go to work every morning, where he had enough stimulation and social time to be ready to rest by Friday night. I stayed home and worked there, on editing projects, on the house, on the garden. Home was a haven, a peaceful place where I could work or think, but it was also my workspace, and any messes were mine to deal with, or not. I had a lot of control over my space then, and I was possessive of it.

Now that Todd and I live and work in one-bedroom apartments instead of a house with 4 levels, home is an all-purpose space for both of us, especially in Portland, with 4 people traipsing about overhead at times.

Not only that, but our home-space changes every few weeks. There’s no point in getting attached, even though I find myself nesting in different ways in each place. This month, I caught myself doing detail cleaning. Why? Well, it’s a nice place. It has touches like composite countertops and bathroom tiles that look like stone. It’s been 3 months since we sold our house, and I guess I missed having a place that was worth cleaning.

For a person like me, an introvert used to spending most weekdays for the last 15 years by herself editing or writing, it’s different to have someone there all the time. I spent too much time alone before, but now it seems the pendulum has swung to the other side.

After a while, we begin to get on each other’s nerves and to act out. Even though Todd is more talkative at social events than I am, he tends to keep his feelings under control, possibly a result of years spent in management. I value the expression of feelings for its own sake, but Todd often doubts that saying anything will matter. I also tend to convince myself that I am stuck with situations instead of revising them to suit myself. So when we get tired of being in the same 500 square feet, I generally say something or get angry. Todd, who is used to the cube-farm and enjoys (most of) the social interaction it offers, retreats by putting on headphones.

None of this really came to a head until Seattle, where there were so many cool things to explore together and a ratty little apartment awaiting us at the end of the day. Add to that the thousands of photographs I took because Seattle fascinated me, and you have a recipe for overload.

I dealt with this in Portland by spending a day alone at the Hoyt Arboretum and Japanese Garden. Walking around looking at plants and trying to identify birds always refreshes me. Luckily, in southeast Portland, beautiful gardens—manicured or overflowing—abound. Roses still bloom, which surprises me. I don’t have to go across town to see these beauties; I can just walk down the block.

And I started to read again. So far this year, I’ve read perhaps 10 books; I usually read more than 30 in a year, and I think that number is way too low. Some of the books I’ve read this year (The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson and Woman of Valor by Ellen Chesler, a biography of Margaret Sanger) were dense and required concentration when I really needed a diversion.

The real tasks for both of us, however, are not just to reduce stress or escape to a coffeehouse; we need to build a new togetherness that doesn’t depend on 40 hours apart each week, and we need to plan ways to meet people who might become friends.