The Best Souvenir I Ever Brought Home
When I was younger, I thought the best souvenirs were the ones I could tuck into my suitcase.
A hand-painted ceramic bowl from Italy.
A stack of vintage postcards from a Paris flea market.
A linen tea towel from a tiny shop whose name I've long since forgotten.
I still treasure those things. They remind me where I've been and, for a moment, transport me back to another place and time.
But over the years, I've realized the best souvenir I ever bring home isn't something I can hold in my hands.
It's the way travel changes how I see.
When I'm away, I naturally slow down.
I linger over morning coffee at a neighborhood café. I wander streets without feeling the need to know exactly where I'm going. I notice flowers spilling over stone walls, the rhythm of footsteps on old cobblestones, the scent of fresh bread drifting from an open bakery door.
Travel gently interrupts my routines and invites me to pay attention again.
It's as though my senses wake up.
The beautiful surprise is that I don't leave that way of seeing behind when I come home.
After returning from Europe this spring, I found myself noticing familiar places with fresh eyes.
The pair of doves who have claimed our backyard pergola as their favorite gathering place.
The afternoon light stretching across my studio table.
The comforting ritual of opening my journal each morning with a fresh cup of coffee beside me.
The tiny moments that had always been there, quietly waiting for my attention.
Travel reminds me that wonder isn't reserved for faraway places.
It's available wherever we happen to be.
Sometimes we simply need a change of scenery to remember how to look.
I think that's one of the quiet gifts of creativity, too.
Whether we're traveling through Spain, walking around our own neighborhood, or making a page in an art journal, we're practicing the same thing.
We're learning to notice.
To linger.
To collect small moments before they disappear.
To become more present to the life we're already living.
Perhaps that's why I've fallen so deeply in love with leading creative journeys.
Yes, we visit extraordinary places. We fill journals with sketches, photographs, ticket stubs, and handwritten memories. We share wonderful meals and discover hidden corners we'd likely never find on our own.
But those aren't the real souvenirs.
The real souvenir is the way we return home.
A little slower.
A little more attentive.
A little more awake to the ordinary beauty that has been waiting for us all along.
And that gift has a way of lasting much longer than anything we could ever buy in a gift shop.
A Little Invitation
If you've ever wondered what it's feels like to travel with me, there are still a few places around the table for our 2027 retreats in Spain and Switzerland.
We'll keep journals, linger over beautiful meals, wander old streets, make art, laugh often, and practice the gentle art of paying attention together.
I'd love to share these extraordinary places with you.
