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 want a blog chock full of vulnerability and to raise the post number with content that feels genuine and as open as a book can be; and I also want to get a job. Are the two opposing?