Grounded Gratitude: A Traveler’s Reflection on Home

There’s something about these pending airport shutdowns that makes you pause. It reminds me how much we take for granted: the ease of movement, the choice to go, the joy of simply stepping into a new place. I can still hear my mom saying, “My dream would be to go to Italy.” And in 2006, we made that dream real. That trip wasn’t just a vacation for her. It was a marker in our family history. A reminder that some experiences shape us long after the suitcase is unpacked.

Travel has been that thread for me my whole life. Truthfully, I’ve always had wanderlust in my bones. Even when I didn’t have the budget for big trips or first-class seats, I found a way. I’d pile the kids into the car and head for the woods to camp, or spend an entire day on the beach letting the world slow down. Back then, it wasn’t about how far we went. It was about the discovery, the adventure, the feeling of fresh air hitting your face and reminding you you’re alive.

And still today, that same spirit sits right under my skin. But now, as the world feels a little less predictable, I find myself grateful for every kind of travel: Jumping in the car and heading out to the coast.  Even walking trails right here in Sonoma County and realizing adventure isn’t always miles away. Sometimes it’s in your own backyard.

And here’s where real estate naturally comes in.

Every time I travel, near or far, I return with new eyes. Travel expands what’s possible, but it also reminds you why home matters. Whether I’m wandering through a tiny village in Umbria, strolling along a Japanese market street, or catching the sunset behind Healdsburg’s hills, I’m always noticing how people live. How they create comfort. How they build the spaces that hold their lives. I love walking through a home and knowing where my clients have been. Their stories, their things. 

That’s why real estate has always felt like an extension of my wanderlust. Helping people find their home base means helping them create the place where their life’s adventures begin and end. Home is the anchor. The launchpad. The soft landing.

And this truth has been with me since those early camping trips with my kids: travel fills my soul, but my soul loves to come home.

So as flights get delayed and plans get rerouted, maybe this is a good moment to rediscover the gratitude in both having a world worth exploring and a home worth returning to. True travelers always find a way, even if the way looks different than planned.

And sometimes, being grounded just reminds you that gratitude is the greatest journey of all.