I pack the last suitcase and set it near the others with a happy sigh. Gulf Shores, Alabama, offers white-sand beaches, thrilling dolphin sightings, balmy weather, and a chance to play tennis nearly every day. Still, it isn’t home.

I miss family, friends, and neighbors. I miss our church, Kiwanis meetings, browsing the shelves at my neighborhood library, and buying eggs at the horse ranch where I once spent many happy hours riding.

I’m eager to see whether the mated pair of cardinals nesting in our backyard has returned. Will the male again perch on our red car’s rearview mirror and peck at his reflection, convinced he’s found a rival? How are my crocuses, daffodils, and tulips coming along? Are the deer leaving them alone? How will Sunnie like exploring our backyard water garden? Will she notice the fish in our water garden—or give chase when the squirrels begin their rollicking games?

Condo living has been pleasant, but it will feel good to spread out again, escape the neighboring barking dog, and enjoy the quiet of our own backyard. I look forward to time in my office, surrounded by familiar books, papers, and the comfort of a well-worn chair. My husband has missed his garage and workshop just as much. We’re both itching to do something productive, and our chore list is long: clean up the yard, fill the hot tub, and prepare the grill for our first backyard cookout.

Are the Canadian geese beginning to nest? Will Gertie—the goose we raised eight years ago—return again to our cabin lake? Will she once again bring her mate and goslings up on the lawn so she can show them off? Questions like these tug at my heart.

The ocean waves are mesmerizing, but I miss my walks along the Wisconsin River. When I saw a Facebook post about the Wisconsin Ducks gearing up for the season, a sudden surge of homesickness caught me off guard.

We’re eager to show Sunnie our favorite trails, including Chapel Gorge and Mirror Lake. She may miss pelicans and seagulls, but geese and ducks will make fine substitutes.

We’ve loved exploring Alabama by electric bike, Sunnie riding happily in her carrier as we cruise beneath sweeping canopies of live oaks draped in Spanish moss. We let Sunnie play at the dog park and stop to check whether Lefty, the alligator with a missing foot, is sunning herself in her usual spot.

Still, Wisconsin’s trails call to us, too. We can hop on the scenic 400 Trail near Reedsburg and pedal past water views, searching for early wildflowers as we head toward LaValle or Union Center.

Soon I'll unlock our front door. The refrigerator will be empty, but the cupboards will be arranged just the way I like them. The hum of the kitchen clock and furnace will feel like old friends welcoming me back.

Sunnie will explore every room, rolling and stretching across the soft carpet. She spent only four days in the Dells before we left, so each scent will feel new. Soon we’ll wander outside, appreciating the simple convenience of our mailbox and waving to the neighbor who kindly watched the house and watered my plants.

I’ll pause and breathe deeply of the cool, familiar Wisconsin air.

I know you’ve felt this, too. Travel brings discovery and delight, but coming home reminds us that walking familiar paths, greeting our people, and rediscovering the places that shape us may be one of life’s greatest joys.