At the end of our road trip we landed on Star Island, a Unitarian Universalist conference center off the coast of New Hampshire. This is the place where Greg and I met and fell in love 15 years ago. It is the place I found my faith and where I continue to uncover what I believe.

Last week I sat on the rocks of Star Island. The salt air tickled my nose. The sun pierced my skin. Rocks held my body, while waves crashed against the hard, sharp earth below. The waves crashed, and crashed, and crashed.

Breaking all sense of control or need for control.

Reminding me that there is so much more than my mind can know.
Reminding me the power of sensing and engaging our senses.

The ocean.
A force so powerful, yet also, soothing and soft like a lullaby.

The vast, open horizon.
Water stretching beyond my ability to see, or even imagine.

It grounds me and gives me perspective.
I am part of this expansive world.
I am so small. A minuscule spec on this grand body.
Yet I sit amidst a web.
Pulling.
Pushing.
Molding all points of contact.
We are interwoven, connected and part of a whole.
We each have choices.
How we occupy our space matters.

These same rocks taught me the power of love.

Many years ago I sat out here journaling and I felt a strong presence of past people who had also surrendered to this place. It made me realize we share ourselves when we open-up and love fully. There is an exchange that happens when people are vulnerable with another or we are fully present and exposed in a place. I believe we live on within the people we love. My grandmother is not only kept alive in my memory, but her love was so fierce that she soaked into my very being. And I believe this can happen with places too.

This is one of many reasons why white supremacy culture is so damaging to white people. In order to be white, we give-up our ancestry and really knowing our history, culture and the lands from which we came and where we stand. We give all this up in exchange for power over others, material wealth and a superficial sense of belonging and as we dehumanize others we lose our own humanity.

Part of my journey is understanding and reclaiming my history and places that have shaped me. I believe that being grounded in who we are and where we come from helps push back against the dominant culture. A culture that works to distance us from ourselves,one another and the earth. A culture that squashes our ability to love fully.

Star Island has profoundly shaped me. It has opened me up to experience some of my greatest joys and gut wrenching pain. I have so much history here. The community is far from perfect. I am far from perfect. Together we can own our imperfections, learn, grow and chart new paths. I choose to bring my full self to this community.

Last week we made a commitment. For the next five years, Greg, Annabelle, Ryan and I will participate in the International Affairs Conference on Star Island. We will be open, vulnerable, raw and real here. We will bring our bodies, minds and spirits to mold and be molded by this place. A place that already has a home deep within each of us.

This week we continued driving, but stayed on a familiar path. Greg and Simeon met us in West Virginia at our friends’ house, which we fondly call Stout Grove. They have a beautiful farmhouse with chickens and vast gardens. They fed us amazing meals with a lot of food from their land or their neighbors. Enjoying home cooked meals was a theme on our trip and it made me reflect on how much meaning food holds. I am also aware of the cost of feeding four travelers. Thank you to all of you who fed us and welcomed us along the way! Although meals with small children are rarely relaxing, there is still a unique connection possible when we share a meal together and connect with the people, food and land before us.

The Stout family also has a raft and a couple stand-up paddle boards, so we had another fun day on the river together. I got to try taking a paddle board down a mellow section of the New River. I didn't have an ounce of grace on that board, but was grateful for the solitude and the vastness of the rippling water. Alone time and personal space have been absent most of this journey. I cherished the time!

Over the past 15 years, the hills of West Virginia have been a frequent destination for our family. They have given us space and time together and we have enjoyed camping, floating rivers and soaking in the fresh air. But my appreciation for the land and the people there deepened on this trip. Staying with Chris and Mark in Knott County, Kentucky gave me a flavor of the Appalachian community. They returned to live in a house his great-great grandfather built, on a plot of land that has seen eight generations of his family grow old. Nearby there is a settler house school and an Appalachian arts center, filled with Dulcimer and weaving classes they've enjoyed. The strong roots, family history, ancestry, and culture was palpable in Kentucky and it traveled with me down the narrow windy roads to West Virginia. I have a new appreciation for the similarities between West Virginia and Kentucky’s landscape and I look forward to learning more about Appalachian culture in this region. I was also keenly aware of my own sense of returning home as soon as I got to the trees and hills of Kentucky. I had gotten far enough East that the landscape felt familiar again.

After West Virginia we had a short drive to my in-laws place in Maryland. Our original plan was to go home for a couple nights before heading to New England, but we’d rented the children's room for the summer and realized breezing through home where they don't have a room would have been too jarring. They have been incredible travelers, spoaking up new experiences, but also long to be amongst their toys, sleep in their bed, and have predicitible days. We didn't set-up the summer in a way to give them the routine at home, so instead, we tried to fill the week with people and places that are familiar. We spent a night less than an hour from home and it felt like we were close. We enjoyed seeing George and Ginger and appreciated that we could explode our stuff everywhere while the kids got their Nana’s full attention. In some ways it felt like a homecoming from our journey, but on Monday morning Greg commuted to work and the kids and I started driving north.

We spent the next night at my mom’s cousin Mark’s again (we’d spent the first night after DC on June 8 here and the first night traveling West here too). Who knew that rural NY would be on our way so many times! We again appreciated the proximity to nature. We went to bed with lightning striking the hills and thunder rumbling the tent. But we stayed warm and dry until after breakfast, when Annabelle and Ryan delighted in bathing in the rain.

All clean and refreshed we set north again for Ripton, VT. Our dear friends from DC are there for the summer and it was so lovely to connect with them again. Seeing Ruth, Jack and Khaia reminded me of how much we enjoy the people in our lives in DC. The visit was short, but it was great timing for us to be with friends from home!

The next day we went to my mom's house in Rhode Island after a quick stop for lunch and a playdate with my dad in New Hampshire. The last time we saw either of my parents was when they’d joined us for different stretches of our journey. Visiting Papa in Manchester, NH offered a complete circle for our cross country trip. While we continue traveling, Papa has returned to the daily grind. Since returning, Papa has been on an overnight shift, reorganizing a Walmart store. He does day labor work and it feels like they are punishing him for taking two weeks off to travel with us. We arrived at noon, three hours after he got off work and woke him from a deep sleep. It reminded me of the cruel realities of our labor system. People, especially when they're in their 70s, should be able to take time off without a company making them suffer. My dad and many, many other people have bodies and livelihoods that bear the burden of making our economy run.

After a short visit, Papa tried to get more sleep and we got back in the car to drive South. The drive between my dad and mom's house was so familiar. I had done a very similar drive every weekend in high school and the roads are full of memories and history. When we got to Rhode Island I was very grateful to be out of the car and at my mother's house. I grew-up here and it is as close to home as I can get without being in my own house. As we drove to Rhode Island, Ryan was asking for Mimi to come to our house instead, but once we got here all talk of going home ended. We all felt like we’d arrived and we finally got to stay in one place for more than a night or two.

Our dear friends from DC, Hannah, Hadley, Cailin and Parker came down from Sharon, MA where they are visiting family. It was wonderful to show them where I was raised and made me realize how many memories this place holds. I am often harsh on this town, but it is also a wonderful and beautiful place filled with incredible people. It's a reminder that nothing is simple. If I have put forward a simplistic picture of anywhere on my journey, please know that I only focused on one dimension and there are many more angles to explore.