the art of finding home in everything

I may or may not be sobbing writing this. No moment has felt as bittersweet as this one. I haven’t been emotional about this experience until now—but leaving? That’s a whole other story.

Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being right where I am. I dreamed of having the courage to explore the world, make mistakes, get lost and let myself feel every one of the butterflies. As I sit on my way home, my mind can’t fully comprehend the chapter of life I just got to live.

I’ve ever taken made me dream about the one I’d take with Iz. Whether it was playing with elephants in Thailand, drinking Paloma’s as we hopped around the Greek Isles, sipping cappuccinos in Parisian cafés, or daydreaming on countless 8-to-16-hour flights, everything led me to imagine the perfect trip for us.

When I finally got the chance to plan this summer, I channeled my inner Jeff Ellison and the hit ground running. If there’s one thing about me, it’s that if you so much as mention a vacation, I’ll have a PowerPoint and budget spreadsheet ready within 24 hours. I don't think Iz had any clue what she was getting herself into.

Now, almost 8 weeks later, I’m sitting in the Madrid airport wondering where all the time went?

When my dad studied abroad, he filled sticker-covered journals with every detail—his adventures, wins, and plenty of losses. Without a doubt, I am who I am today—wanderlust-filled and adventurous—because of him. Nothing I could ever do would fully express what that means to me, but here I am trying.

A week before we left, my dad showed me those infamous travel journals. We sat together for hours—reading, crying, laughing—and I knew then that this was going to be the time of my life. No matter what you’re about to read, know that no words could ever do it justice.

If you’d told me two months ago that I’d call Sevilla home, I never would’ve believed you. Yet one of the many lessons this summer has taught me is the art of finding home everywhere you go.

I found home in the little family of 11 we shared every class, dreaded paper, España futbol win, and walls with.

I found home in my go-to coffee order from Jester’s that never failed to hit the spot.

I found home in learning the countless little streets, twists and turns without ever having to pick up my phone (after the first two 2 weeks)

I found home with the locals who let me practice their language and complimented my failed attempts. 

I found home while watching the sun set over Plaza de España and the Cathedral while reading a book. It may not be the Ohio river from my jeep but it felt pretty damn close.

I found home in our little routine: class, coffee, yummy homemade breakfasts, roof pilates, tanning sessions, grocery store runs, homework cramming perfectionism, and nightly adventures.

I found home in the quick calls to the people I love and the .5 selfies to my parents—proof of life, if you will.

It takes practice not to let an experience like this leave you lonely, but it’s the best lesson I’ve ever learned.

I discovered that home isn’t a place—it’s a feeling. Home is wherever Iz is. Home is where you have “your spots.” Home is when the woman at the corner café recognizes you as she rides by on her bike. Home is a place you miss the moment you leave. Home is where you find peace. Home is Louisville. Home is family. And now, home is Sevilla too.

Home is realizing that I did it—I made it, little P. That tiny fifth grader in Señora González’s Spanish class would be amazed at how confidently I speak to locals now. You really lived up to that “Little Miss Chatterbox” shirt, girlfriend.

Those Paris Pinterest boards are now, as Iz says, your camera roll.

You turned the Eloise in Paris books into memories.

You made mistakes and learned to laugh them off.

You flew to Mallorca with two girls you’d just met and rented a car to beach-hop across the Balearic Islands.

You finally rubbed your coffee obsession off onto Izzy who now begs YOU to go on coffee dates. Such a win.

More than anything, you made her proud. From running around with Gramp’s old camera to taking your own across the world; from baking alfajores for Spanish class to tasting them in real bakeries; from scribbling in Justice diaries to documenting your adventures here—nothing makes me happier than making that version of me proud. I did this for me, but I really did it for her.

Saying bye to a place I grew to love was hard - but that just makes the day that I get to come back so much sweeter. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and man, has it made me love the people and places that make Louisville and Knoxville home even more.

Now I have my own journal—full of stories my kids will hear one day too. I finally understand what my dad meant when he told me, “I’ve spent my life chasing the feeling you’re about to have since the moment my own adventure ended.” Over the last eight weeks, he repeated it more times than I can count—but he didn’t need to. I get it now.

If you ever get the chance to study abroad, I'm begging you to take it and run.

This experience has made me grow in ways I never thought possible. I learned to trust myself in stressful situations. I learned to let go of the need for a strict routine and rather live in the now because you’re never getting it back. I learned to take siestas and give my body rest, something that I am sometimes embarrassed to admit I deprive myself of. I learned to take risks and be brave enough to make new friends, explore new places, and get out of the bubble I didn’t even realize I was trapped in.

The world is full of people and places you never knew you needed to meet. Like I said, no words I could drop onto the page could ever describe the feeling and impact this summer has made on my life. Comfort is one thing, but if any previous version of Peyton saw me now, she would be proud of who she’s become. The little girl who dreamed of going to Paris and kept pictures of the Eiffel Tower on every wall. The freshman in photography class who hoped she would one day get past taking pictures of flowers, but rather the vastness of the Swiss mountains. Even the girl who submitted her application to ISA.

You never know how an experience will change your life until you try. So go for it. Be brave. You might just find a new version of yourself—and a few new places that feel like home.

Thank you, Sevilla, for being one of mine.

Xoxo, P