A Most Remarkable Twenty-Four Hours

Mary Oliver, giant pooping sloths, Joshua trees, visiting the grave of one of my heroes...

Samwise sleeping with his head on my shoulder during our favorite day. Dust and sand and his cookie crumbs blew everywhere and landed throughout the car—and on my hoodie!

This year's trip feels different than the others. It's draped in meditation, reverence, quiet, peace, discovery, and uncertainty while anchored in sacred gratitude. There's not a day over the past ten weeks where I haven't thought, "We are so blessed!"

Compared to our other five trips, I feel more alive and connected to the Earth, the Wilds, the history of the land, and the writers I'm tailing across America.

It began that December night in Concord, Massachusetts, when we ambled the streets after checking into our inn. Then again, at 4 am, strolling where Thoreau, Emerson, Hawthorne, and the Alcott family once walked. At that hour, in that old town, it was easy to believe we were back in their time.

It would not be the last time we walked with ghosts. They are around us at most of our stays.

I find myself constantly reshuffling my favorite stops to this point. Would it surprise you to discover that perhaps some of my most cherished 24 hours did not include a hike?

I would be lying if I told you I did not have a few tears rolling down my cheeks while at his grave. It’s not often you get to say thank you to someone who helped shape you. It’s no wonder why Emily and Samwise watched me as closely as they did from Clarence.