There’s something about going home that
stirs your soul in a way nothing else can.

This past trip back to Nassau—my home, my heart—was more than just a vacation. It was a reset, a deep breath, and a reminder of who I am and where I come from. But most of all, it gave me space to reflect on this season of motherhood in such a grounding and beautiful way.

We spent our days reconnecting with family, with nature, with ourselves. We visited the beach four times, and every single time the weather greeted us like a long-lost friend: warm, breezy, and breathtaking. Watching my son splash along the shore, run barefoot through the sand, and play under the golden sun... it filled something in me I didn’t know was running low.

Being home meant being with family. We got to spend time with both sides, and one of the most touching things was seeing my son with my mom. She missed out on so many early moments because of COVID and health concerns, but this time, she got to cook some of his meals, give him his baths, and just be present with him. The way her face lit up around him—those are the moments I’ll never forget. And my dad—oh, he was in grandpa mode, for sure. Liam kept asking, “Where’s Papa? Is he to work?” It was sweet, and it was special, watching their bond grow deeper every day.

I even got to be home for my dad’s birthday, which hasn’t happened in years. Being able to hug him, say “Happy Birthday” in person, and make him breakfast felt like such a full-circle moment.

One of the biggest gifts of this trip? Slowing down.

The pace in Nassau is different—it invites you to breathe deeper, look around more, and be. One of my favorite days was a date day with Kita at Baha Bay in Baha Mar. Just us, sipping daiquiris from a pineapple, eating poke bowls, riding water slides like big kids, and then—my favorite part—doing absolutely nothing. Just sitting there on lounge chairs, chatting about everything and nothing, listening to the waves crash in the distance, and feeling the ocean breeze sweep over us. No interruptions. Just presence. That kind of time feels sacred when you’re parents.

Another heart-filling moment was spending time with my best friend Kara. We’ve been close since the end of 2009—those rare, deep-rooted friendships that truly feel like family. We met up at Bon Vivants for drinks and small bites, and honestly, it was one of those catch-ups that felt like soul medicine. Hearing her stories, the things bringing her joy, and the art she’s been pouring herself into—it was all so inspiring. And I got to share my motherhood journey and the creative things I’m working on, too. We laughed, encouraged one another, and just soaked in the kind of quality time that feels so rare but so necessary. It reminded me how important it is to stay connected to the people who know and love you through every chapter.

Food was another source of joy—seriously, I think we ate our way through Nassau. Some unforgettable bites:
– Conch Dream Roll + Shrimp Dynamite from Okiniiri (Marathon Mall surprise!)
– Poke bowls from Da’ Poke Bowl
– Jerk chicken bao buns from Da New Duff
– Manolin’s Punch from Bon Vivants
– Tempura shrimp bowl from Yellowbell
– And of course, our all-time fave: the classic chicken snack from Bamboo Shack—our first stop every time we’re home.

We even had a fun dinner at Carmine’s on Paradise Island with Kita’s parents. We ordered way too much food, laughed over old memories, and just soaked in the joy of being together. It felt good—healing, even.

Another favorite moment? Junkanoo. Even though it wasn’t a full rush-out, we caught the Friday night show at Atlantis Marina Village, and it was electric. The drums, the horns, the rhythm—it stirs something deep. There’s nothing like it. That beat—it lives in you.

As the trip came to an end, I found myself emotional again, as I always do now when it’s time to leave. Sitting on the plane, tears quietly falling, not just because I was saying goodbye to a place, but to a feeling. A peace. A closeness. A version of myself I only get to feel when I’m home.

Motherhood often demands so much of us—our time, our presence, our energy. But being back in the Bahamas reminded me to pause. To soak in the little moments. To let family help. To take joy in slow, salty days and belly laughs over shared plates. It reminded me of the legacy I carry and the roots I want to share with my son.

I’m walking away from this trip inspired—from the vibrant colors of the tropics, the rhythm of Junkanoo, the gentle power of family, and the quiet strength of friendships. My heart is full, and my motherhood journey feels a little more rooted.