We are a movement, a storm of people. Travelers. We migrate. Not for food, nor warmth, but for survival of another sort. Of the spirit. We seek inspiration, adventure…answers. I seek to know what is home. A place? A people? Here I’ve found a purpose. In writing. My life as a story. Through these chapters and changes I am learning myself, my rhythms and needs. That knowledge protects me. It is a weightless shelter I can carry everywhere. It is a home.

Years circling and tasting different worlds have landed me back on a Caribbean island, where I find comfort in the feeling of a home base for now. Where I feel excited to expand in a more rooted way, into community and projects and nesting. Back in an environment that resonates with my childhood years in the USVI.

“Settling down”, to grow the roots that have tickled the back of my mind all through the adventures. Grow inward, and down rather than out and around. I am doing it because I am ready for it, because the desire has been there forever, but is finally greater than the desire to flit around. It is hard to stay still enough for these roots wind down, for the pudding to gel, but the work feels good, just as the wandering felt good, just as all phases are meant to be, and meant to pass into another. 

Now I can tell my stories, relish in my past as I embrace my potent present. I am writing, I am creating, and I am building a base that traveling did not allow. Because it is time. Not all stories end like this, settling down is not for everyone, it is not the only happy ending. But for me it is peaceful. It is like taking a long drink I’ve been craving. No one pushed me to do it, I am just ready for life to hit a different stride…for now:)