Each year we go to Old Pool Farm and settle in for a week of gathering with an extended family filled with love.

We laugh. We cry. We stay up late and make s’mores by the campfire. We help each other with the kids so we can all enjoy the time.

Our campsite is right by one of the bridges people traverse when they come in from the parking lot concert side. Hanging on one of our canopies is a sign, freshly made this year with help from the kids:

Home. What is this idea of home? What does it mean?

Does it simply mean the place where you live most of the time? Sure, that can be one definition.

As we were packing up our site today, I said to a friend that it seems so odd that we leave home for almost a full year.

To many this might seem like a strange way to talk about a vacation. To us, our time at Fest is not just a vacation. It is a coming home.

We come home to a place where we can fully be ourselves – our peaks and our valleys.

We come home to a place where no one judges us for what we wear or how we look. And without mirrors, we can drop the self judgement too.

We come home to a place where we can settle in with friends we have not seen in a year and pick up the conversation right where we left off.

We come home to a place that feeds our soul.

We come home to a place that will always feel like home, even if we are only there for a few days out of the year.

With Love and Gratitude for Fest and my Fest Family,