How Returning Home Helped Me Reconnect With What Matters Most

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
— Marcel Proust

Sometimes the Journey You Need Most Is the One Back Home

How often do you travel home?

And what is home anyway?

I am originally from North Carolina. Last fall was the first time I had visited my hometown since 2013. I had the opportunity to walk the streets I grew up on, visit my parents' graves, and reconnect with old friends. The visit filled my soul, my heart, and my cup in ways I never expected.

I never imagined how much I would miss my small town, the people in it, and the memories tucked into places I hadn't thought about for years.

This summer, I retraced those steps with my husband.

We've been married for over a decade, but he had never seen the place that shaped so much of who I am. Sure, Paul had met many of my lifelong friends over the years, but I don't think he fully understood why those relationships remained so meaningful—even though we don't talk every week or even every month.

Sometimes, you have to experience a place to understand why it never really leaves you.

Slowing Down On Vacation

For ten days, Paul and I wandered around the beautiful state of North Carolina.

Some days it was just the two of us. Other days we played golf with strangers. We spent time with family, visited lifelong friends, explored old neighborhoods, and revisited places that had quietly shaped my life.

I could recount every stop on our itinerary, but that's really not what this trip was about.

What struck me most was how different it felt from many vacations we've taken before. We took a few pictures, but not many. I didn't post our daily adventures on social media. In fact, I still haven't. If you've followed me for a while, you know I've been intentionally trying to unplug. This trip became another opportunity to practice exactly that.  Instead of documenting every moment, we experienced them.  Instead of worrying about capturing memories, we simply made them.

Sometimes the Best Memories Aren't Planned

While we had a fairly full itinerary, some of our favorite moments happened when we simply let the day unfold. In Wake Forest, we drove down familiar streets, stopped where Arnold Palmer once played golf, grabbed a snack at Shorty's, and wandered without any real schedule.

Those unplanned moments somehow became the richest ones.

We bumped into old friends. We laughed. We lingered. And despite how much the town has grown over the years, it somehow still felt like the connected little village I remembered growing up in. 

Old Friends Have a Way of Bringing You Home

One evening, Paul and I hosted twelve friends for a hibachi dinner. Everyone offered to bring something, and many did. It was warm—but not nearly Texas warm—and we all gathered outside. Camp chairs. Paper plates. Wine in plastic cups. A hibachi chef with plenty of jokes. We naturally settled into what felt like a giant campfire circle. Conversations flowed everywhere. Some were quiet and personal. Others involved the whole group. People laughed across the circle, teased one another, caught up on decades of life, and even joked with the chef. How else do you catch up after nearly thirty years? Some friends still lived nearby. Others drove several hours just to be there for what they affectionately called a "Becca Bash."

What I treasured most wasn't the meal. It was the feeling.

Paul and I were welcomed as though we had seen everyone just yesterday. Sure, we were all a little grayer. A little stiffer. Perhaps carrying a few more responsibilities than we did in 1989. But for one evening, none of that mattered. 

Pinehurst – We Didn't Just Rediscover a Place, We Rediscovered What Matters

Before heading home, Paul and I spent a few days in Pinehurst—the cradle of American golf. We slowed down, played a little golf, browsed local shops, found a cozy wine bar, and once again, we barely reached for our phones. A few days after we returned home, Paul surprised me.

He looked over and casually said, "Let's retire to North Carolina." I laughed. We had never really talked about that before. The more I thought about it, though, I realized he wasn't talking about geography. He was talking about the feeling we experienced there. Connection. Community. Kindness. People lingering around tables instead of rushing off to the next obligation. Investing in relationships. Living a little slower. Perhaps what we were longing for wasn't simply North Carolina. Perhaps we were longing for a life that felt more connected.

You Don't Have to Travel Far to Reconnect With Yourself

I've continued to reflect on this trip ever since we returned home. We still have other vacations planned this year, and they've made me wonder why certain trips stay with us long after we've unpacked our suitcases.

Maybe it isn't the destination at all. Maybe it's how we choose to experience it. Maybe reconnecting with ourselves doesn't always require a plane ticket. Sometimes it looks like calling an old friend, driving through your childhood neighborhood, taking a walk without your phone,  or reading a favorite book.

A Gentle Reminder

Whether your next adventure takes you across the country or simply into your own backyard, I hope you give yourself permission to slow down.

To unplug. To laugh. To reconnect with people who know your story. To remember who you once were. And to celebrate who you are becoming.

Because perhaps Marcel Proust was right. The greatest discoveries aren't always found in new places. Sometimes they're found by looking at familiar places with new eyes.