The week of a big trip always sends butterflies to your stomach. You feel excitement you never have dreamed of. There is also anxiousness of not wanting to go. You look at your suitcase unpacked, ig you are like me lol, and start to question so many things of the future. With those feelings I have been appreciating my days at home..
I’ve been moving through my days slower this week. Letting the small moments linger longer than usual. I’ve learned that before I pack my suitcase, I have to pack my heart — with all the little things I’m going to miss. Because lets face it. Even though we are SUPER FREAKING EXCITED to go into a different world, we don’t want to forget to be grateful for the one were leaving behind<3
This is my first international trip. One away from my home for weeks but I do know deep down, my parents put me with a great family to travel this far with. So even with the excitement i have, I’m still cherishing my time at home.
Charleston Mornings, I’ll Miss You
There’s a rhythm to Lowcountry mornings that just feels like home — the hum of cicadas before the sun even thinks about rising, that mix of hay and salt air, the light hitting the pasture in gold streaks that make you stop for a second.
Most days I’m out at the farms early, coffee in hand, boots covered in dew, just watching the world wake up. There’s a peace to it that’s hard to explain — like the day hasn’t decided what it’s going to be yet. Rosie’s usually still at home, stretched across the bed like she owns the place, waiting for me to come back smelling like horse poop and fresh air.
Somewhere overhead, there’s Rowan — the red-shouldered hawk that’s been hanging around lately.
I didn’t name him right away. It wasn’t until I looked up what hawks mean that I realized how much his timing lined up with what’s been going on in my life. Hawks are messengers — they show up when you need perspective, when you’re being asked to step back and see the bigger picture.
So now, every time I spot him, I take it as a reminder to slow down and actually see where I am — not just rush through it. A few days ago, I asked him for a sign. Something simple. Just a little confirmation that I’m aligned — that I’m not forcing what’s already flowing.
Later that day, I found two hearts.
One hidden in the weeds at the farm.
One in the carpet at the gym.
Could’ve brushed it off, but it hit different. Two hearts, same day, after I asked for clarity.
That’s how Spirit works for me — quiet, but clear. Subtle enough that I could miss it if I wasn’t paying attention, strong enough that I know better than to call it coincidence. So I smiled, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay. I see you.” And then I kept going — a little lighter, a little more sure that I’m exactly where I need to be.
Little Goodbyes
I’ve been saying quiet goodbyes all week. Not forever goodbyes — more like gentle see-you-laters.
I walked the pasture fence line a little slower and spent time with the horses, ran my hand over Rosie’s fur as she blinked at me in that sleepy cat way that makes you melt.
The truth is, I’ll miss the smell of hay and salt air. I’ll miss rosie, the farm and my routines.
But I know now that home doesn’t vanish when I leave — it expands.
Every trip stretches my idea of what home means. Every adventure teaches me that love doesn’t live in one place — it travels with you, tucks itself into the corners of your suitcase, hums quietly in the background when you land somewhere new.
The Rituals Before I Go
Before a big trip, I have a few quiet rituals that help me anchor:
- Clean spaces, clear mind. I sweep the floors, water the plants, strip the sheets. It’s my way of thanking this space for holding me.
- Write a note to myself. Just a few lines: what I’m grateful for, what I’m releasing, what I’m calling in. It’s always more powerful than I expect.
- Carry something from home. A heart-shaped rock, a tiny charm — something tangible that reminds me that Spirit travels light but never leaves my side.
- Stand outside and look up. Every time, Rowan seems to appear. Sometimes I just whisper, “Watch over the farm while I’m gone.” Other times, I simply breathe and let the wind say goodbye for me.
Until Next Time
So as I zip up my suitcase and head into this week before takeoff, I’m bringing more than outfits and travel plans. I’m carrying a lot of memories — the laughs, the early mornings on the farm, the people who have shown up for me again and again.
This chapter of life has been wild, grounding, emotional, and full of growth — and I just want to say thank you. To my friends, family, clients, and everyone who’s supported me, prayed for me, or simply followed along — it means more than you know.
Charleston will always be home, but I’m realizing home isn’t just one place. It’s the people, the energy, and the gratitude that go with you.
Here’s to the next chapter, to new skies, and to coming back with stories to tell.
🤍
xoxo,
Alli Rose
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