I’m a storyteller.  I didn’t know it until my late thirties.  I had decided decades ago to dislike everything about writing until 2017 when my husband and I, along with our two boys left our Americana lives in our Volkswagen van for 5 months to live and travel our way through Colombia, Ecuador and Peru. I began writing a travel blog for our loved ones - to appease the collective worry that we’d fall off the face of the unknown, never to return. Away from the distraction of my life, I found the words to explain what nothing else could. 

Despite my imposter syndrome, the excuse that english is my second language and the fact that I’m trained in health care, not writing - the writing unfolds itself as the purest expression.

I believe that our stories are tethered to the forgotten places that we come from - to the honest swaying of our souls.  Allowing for the words to come is a tactile toil and a truthful harvest.