Here and There

When I travel, I feel challenged and alive with wonder. The world feels wide open — full of small discoveries. I always want to share them with the people I love. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a vacation from my life; I want to add to it, to expand it, to carry the new places and memories back home.

Vacation, of course, is meant to be a kind of rest — a pause, a sabbatical, a sabbath of sorts. It asks us to step away from the usual docket and experience a reprieve to re-center.

I understand that for some, that pause needs to be complete — a full immersion in the present moment, undivided attention to what is new and near. I respect that.

At the same time, I’ve found that travel often awakens a tender nostalgia. It reminds us of what we’ve left behind — the familiar voices, the daily rhythms, the rituals that make up home. That ache, too, is part of the adventure.

And so I wonder: is it sensible to send a thought from afar — a well wish, a simple hello — without breaking the spell? It seems to be different for everyone. One of the graces of distance is that it allows connection to unfold in its own time: we can release small offerings, trusting they’ll be received when they’re meant to.

Not to summon anyone back, but to offer companionship. Not to intrude, but to remind — just to be here, generously wishing one another well. And perhaps the truest messages sent across distance are felt for what they hold — not absence, but affection.