For the last few years, I have lived here, deep in the world of where land meets sea. I have sat at the shoreline where stones gather in thousands, singing songs with the churning winter tides. In the spring I say goodbye, and come summer they have all gone to the deep. Year after year, we sing a similar song. I resonate with stone, for they are the travelers from the beginning of time. And with time, I learn all the many faces of my kin — I have made myself a family, one of sand and stone, wind and water.

A home for a traveler is carved, not given. But my ancestors followed me across the ocean, and they have taught me how to see. Their vision is my inheritance, carved into my bones like water in stone. They teach me that here and there and everywhere, there are portals I can follow to remember myself whole again.