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A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.”

— John Steinbeck

No two journeys are alike—and isn’t that the truth? I’m always amazed that I can return to the same place again and again, yet the experience is never the same. Who I am in that moment shapes what I notice, how I feel, and what I carry away. Each trip is less about the destination and more about the version of myself that meets it.

I also love the idea that I don’t simply take a trip—the trip takes me. I may choose a destination, but the journey itself decides the path. Along the way, I’ll learn, laugh, and sometimes struggle. Later, I’ll look back on that experience as a memory, seeing how it changed me and prepared me for whatever came next.

When I was growing up, every year we camped at the same spot in Idaho. It became our place—woven into the fabric of my family’s story. Each summer we’d line up on the last day for a picture: dirty, sunburned, bug bitten, but happy. We have a whole series of those photos, marking our changing ages and stages against the backdrop of that one beloved place.

Years later, I had the joy of taking my daughter there. I saw that familiar spot with new eyes—this time as a parent. I watched her discover it for herself, creating her own memories, while I added another layer to mine. When I snapped her end-of-trip picture, it felt like a continuation of a story that had begun long before her.

That place has seen me through so many seasons of life. Each visit was different because I was different. With every return, I gained new lessons, new memories, and new pieces of myself. A journey really is a person in itself—alive, evolving, and always changing us along the way.