More and more, I’m realizing these little moments are one way of marking our progress in a foreign language—they are the tiny minnows that would have otherwise swum right through the net of our mind.
It’s all too easy to doubt our decisions—but every now and then, I’m grateful for the moments when we suddenly know, without any doubt at all, that our steps have led us in the right direction.
As I sat and sketched in Tromsø, I loved looking up at the cathedral’s turquoise steeple, keeping time by the clocks on its churchtower, and thinking once again of my favorite equation for enoughness.
While getting to see Lofoten’s rugged peaks from the water was a welcome change in perspective, the greatest gift of our journey to Tromsø was the number of surprising connections it held.
Creating the cover illustration for Christine Gilbert’s new memoir, Mother Tongue—and by extension, getting to help tell Christine’s story visually—was both a joy and an incredible honor.
On a brisk Sunday morning in Stockholm, I can remember the feeling of being on the brink of it all. As though hidden behind a cobblestoned bend of its own, our future lay out of sight, but still within reach.
San Francisco is teaching me that home can be a person, but on a greater level, home is all of the people in our life, whose combined presence forms an emotional foundation just as significant as any physical one.