August 17, 2026

I woke this morning to find my mind 2,407 miles away, flooded in memories of a different rainy day spent in Bryce Canyon. I am steeped in cool, damp humid air fizzling with misty rain that lingers and the scenes of driving Bryce Canyon Road flutter through my brain like a flip book from childhood as I move through the motions of an everyday morning. I brush my teeth and I am transported to the balcony at the lodge, engulfed by the Ponderosa Pines that are drinking in the falling water. I empty the dishwasher and I think back to my wind blown hair falling into my face as I look out, in awe at Inspiration Point, the clouds now just dripping down upon me. I drive my children to their home away from home during the summer and the scrape of the windshield wipers transports me to a section of winding road, a meadow on my left, and two deer crossing just ahead. I turn into the parking lot at my office and I recall the wisps of clouds finally lifting from the orange and white striped hoodoos before me at Rainbow Point, 9,115 above sea level. There, I am standing at the edge, an end of the line, a place where the human footprint fades away and I feel the sense of coming home again.

I often let my thoughts wander through the places I have been, but on days like today, the memories choose themselves and they show up regardless of the task at hand or the schedule of my day, almost like a song stuck playing in my head. Lately, I am most often drawn back to Capitol Reef in Utah, to Leavenworth in Washington, to Sedona in Arizona, and to my surprise, White Sands National Park in New Mexico. Sometimes I am called to a very specific memory, a portion of a drive, a spectacular view, the smell of the morning air and other times I return to entire destination and it is the feeling of the place that tumbles through my mind.

These memories, are the pieces of myself that I have left in all the destinations that I have loved. And in all the places that I have traveled, I have found a part of myself that has been missing. I have struggled with “the feeling” or “a sense” of belonging for as long as I can remember and perhaps that is because a part of me belongs everywhere. I am home when I am here but I am also home when I choose to go. I think being able to recall the wonderful experiences that we have lived is one of the greatest joys of being a human.

I hope that my children remember our adventures as fondly as I will and they carry on our traditions as they grow and start their own life paths. I find so much meaning in being able to be together on these trips and put aside all the tasks of daily life that minimize the time we have to spend with them. We get to learn and grow and experience so much beyond our “norms” and it is such an amazing opportunity to have. As I begin to wrap this post up, I am brought back to Bryce and the memory of fogged up windows during a period of heavy rain, droplets splattering on the roof of our rental Jeep, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone playing on the speakers, and the kids curled up around their travel pillows. We are parked in one of the scenic pull offs and I can feel the calm settling in as we all get absorbed into the story. The gray skies wrap us in a blanket and I am so lucky to have this memory that brings me the same comfort as I had on this day gone by.