Monday, July 16, 2018


What is home? Where is home? 
I use the word a lot and sometimes even confuse myself when I say it. 

Maybe it’s the house my dad built with the American and Marine flag out front 
and a big yard out back that spills into the field where we played baseball every day after school with the cousins as often as the weather allowed 
(and even sometimes when it didn’t). When our baseball, football, or frisbee ended up in the creek, Travis always went in for it, thankful for some excuse to hop in. 
It’s where the mulberry tree grew and we stained our shirts, hands, and lips over and over all summer long. 
It’s where I wrestled with my brothers, where I sat on the swing for hours, and where I cried in secret when the reality set in that I was leaving for Mexico. 

Maybe Mexico is home. It’s the place I built an entirely new life. 
Where my heart ached for that first year struggling to love a place that felt so foreign – where felt so foreign. 
It’s the place that I learned to speak a language that opened up doors to have the most stunning relationships with people who opened their homes and hearts to me without reservation. Where I danced salsa on rooftops, learned to love chile on everything from mangos to grasshoppers, and became equally overwhelmed and enchanted by the vibrancy and endlessness of the city. It’s the place I swore I’d live forever. 

Maybe Colorado is home. Here, I’m captivated by the mountains and the way the sun casts golden light onto the foothills until it tucks away in a cool, pink haze.  
Here, you can feel the difference of the fresh air on your skin, in your lungs, and in your soul.  
Here, I have many old friends and have made many new friends. 
We ride bikes to ice cream shops, pass a lot of time at back patio grills, and forever plan the next trail and trek to tick off the list. 
Here, I plan to start over again. I don’t have all the details figured out just yet, but I have peace and that’s enough for now. 

I’ve said it a thousand times: goodbyes are hard. 
I knew that with whatever decision I made, there would be pain. No one scenario could play out perfectly. 
As I return to Mexico to pack up my things and say my goodbyes, my heart aches once again – much like when I left my first home in Chicago. 
It also skips a beat in excitement when I think about what’s to come. 
I’m not sure how such conflicting emotions can live together, but as I simultaneously mourn and celebrate, I’m thankful for the home that I’ve had in Mexico.


  1. Sam, I know this has been an amazing journey and what a difference you have made in those five years in Mexico. Your next journey awaits and I know your family and friends are excited too. Safe journey from one home to the next❤❤

  2. I really enjoyed reading this! I'll be praying for you. You are a beautiful, gifted person!

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