Home isn’t a single place, it’s a region. It’s where you feel most alive. You’re a node, an intersection, a filter, through which so much passes. What travels through you depends on where you call home. Do you feel best in the humid swamps of the south-eastern part of the United States? What about the frigid northern part of the world, Siberia maybe? Or a coastal place, somewhere in Mexico or California? Maybe you like the city, the hustle and bustle of a million others in places like New York, Hong Kong, or London.
She’d been everywhere, working as director of photography for one of the most popular travel shows on TV. Over a hundred countries in the past seventeen years. Right out of college she’d found work with a small network, an almost unheard of channel in the triple digits of cable. But after a couple clips from the show went viral, the show—and network—exploded in popularity. A year later the show was moved to one of the majors, one of those three letter stations.
That was then, this is now. She still travels for work, but when she has time off she spends it on the coast of northern Oregon. The woods there nourish her. It’s where she feels the most herself. Where the hum of life vibrates her core and makes her soul sing.
Often, walking in the misty forest near her humble home, she would think of how she got to this moment. How, growing up in the panhandle of Florida, she’d known that wasn’t home for her. Then, three years out of college, still in the early days of the travel show, she went to Oregon. They were doing an episode on mushroom foraging. Not even a full day into the shoot and she started contacting real estate agents.
Often in life the things we know most clearly are those things we can’t put to words, we feel them. We feel our homes, they’re more a part of us than most of us will ever understand.