10:25 a.m.: I still have hope. I post on Instagram, “I’m so close to the summit, I can taste it.” Four minutes later, I decide to start counting switchbacks to keep my mind off of what this experience feels like in my body.
“If you want to become a better person, or not get into a monotonous, boring life, you’re going to have to find micro-goals to go after,”
Travel has been a way to explore my individual identity to the degree I’ve felt I lacked a communal one. Exploring my ancestry, on the other hand, addresses that basic need for a group I know is an inextricable part of the me that other family and friends press up against and shape.
The biggest takeaway from the soil of my still-living ancestors, however, is the example of who I can be and what I can create. With just a little work—a little more reaching out, I could be a family oriented woman with strong ties to anyone perched on a branch of my own or even a neighboring family tree--much like the Kelly, Johnson, or especially the Kirby women.
Sometimes travel serves no other purpose than to show us where we belong.
When you think about it, how can we not link travel to who we are? We are, because we traveled.
One day you’ll learn. And maybe that one day will be an accumulation of several fleeting moments. Little whispers that float through your brain as fast as sound until they create a catchy little song you can’t forget.
Ask locals of Washington's Olympic Peninsula where to go to be impressed and they'll point you to Cape Flattery. Between its jade ocean waters, playful sea otters, and sunset-painted trees, it's hard to imagine there's anyone who wouldn't fall in love.
I remember the image in my mind of two bikes endlessly circling a wooden boat deck, rain or shine.
And then Sedona was bewitching. And then New Mexico was charming. And now? Well, now we're super much behind schedule.
the RAMBLE 