I’m happiest when I’m flying, suspended in the air.

I know a lot of people hate travel – or, they love the destination, but it’s the getting to the destination they find troublesome. TSA, long lines, cramped seats, little to no leg room for hours on end. The crying babies, the jerky train, the expensive meals ... the list goes on. And, yes, I’ve had my fair share of screaming babies, unfortunate middle seats, too much luggage, unexpected costs and a frequency of travel that has left my eyes bloodshot, skin dry and hair flat. I’ve felt uprooted and disconnected, forever flying away from some version of home.

But what I’ve come to realize, for me, is that traveling is home.