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stories from the journey • aevaura — episode one hosted by Miche

one last look at our home in Michigan.

so many memories flooding in... as I travel down the same road one last time that I've driven a thousand times... or more.

It's like getting to the end of a book, happy, yet sad.

A bittersweet ending.

Excited for what's ahead and grateful for the journey so far — but lingering in this moment, to acknowledge what's also being lost. Saying goodbye (for now) to family and friends that have been an invaluable support network since landing in the Mitten State.

In reality, it wasn’t about running FROM something...

it was about running TO something.

And THAT... is the difference.

Memphis

The first planned stop was Memphis.

It had been a hot minute since being there last.

Now — I have a history with Memphis. And those memories are what shaped the travel route.

While Nashville could have been a lovely alternative detour, my soul wanted more Memphis. Enough to last another lifetime. To experience that city again as I remembered it — slow jazz and blues spilling onto Beale Street, the smell of cigarettes in the air, the hustle and bustle of the wee hours of the night.

Walking past the Peabody. Strolling down Beale Street — even with a Jeep event wrapping up, the silence and emptiness made me feel for this city that used to be larger than life. Sure, it was during the week — but so many other cities still have visitors during off-peak days... why would Memphis be any different?

Reminiscing about the old haunts, now defunct — The Butcher Shop and the Spaghetti Warehouse. The novelty of cooking your own steak for a young girl fresh out of school was so memorable. The Spaghetti Warehouse was full of booths with metal bedpost accents and an iconic indoor trolley, pasta favorites rolling down the menu like a train rolling down the track.

It's a funny thing, revisiting a city you once knew down the road. Checking whether the memories still fit.

I could still sense the history of the city. But some of the charm had left, from what I remembered.

It didn't seem bigger.

It actually seemed a lot smaller, relegated to a couple blocks.

Memphis barbecue was the chosen supper du jour — and it left me wanting more. There were high expectations for those ribs at a storied downtown restaurant. Having fallen in love with great barbecue while traveling this great country — we've been properly introduced, you could say.

Unanimous agreement: Memphis didn't have anything on middle Tennessee ribs. Not at all. Our experience that night missed the mark... such a heartfelt disappointment for me, a self-professed foodie.

And then there was the hotel.

The room was very Victorian — curved alcove, old-world charm, the kind of place that whispers "we've been here for a while."

And in the lobby restroom... an emergency button.

A party button.

Complete with flashing lights... and ABBA's "Dancing Queen."

Victorian elegance... meets disco.

I have the receipts. And I promise you — they're coming.

After that meal, more anxious than ever to get to the land of endless barbecue. Because like everything else that's bigger in the Lone Star State — barbecue reigns supreme. And I am ready and willing to make the ultimate sacrifice…for you all!

As the border approached, I could see a change in the topography. More earthy. Raw.

...we finally arrived.

The Travel Information Center — Texarkana

Stopping for a quick stretch and peek at the Travel Information Center in Texarkana — where we heard the two words that stopped us in our tracks.

You see — like many people who decide to move, sometimes you visited a place on a leisure trip... and you wondered out loud, what would it be like to live here?

Earlier this year, that’s just what happened.

Heading south to escape the unusually cold winter that Michigan dealt us — with adventure in our hearts and warmth on the mind... we packed a full itinerary. When returning from the vacation …another vacation felt necessary to recover. Isn't that the way it is sometimes? As we were driving around and seeing everything, we wondered out loud, as we have so many other times, what it would be like to live here.

We were at a point in our lives that this time we answered…why not?

For a while, it felt like it wasn't going to happen for us.

Until one day, the planets aligned — and it did.

As we walked into the welcome center, like we had at most other welcome centers when crossing state lines on this trip. At the entry, a barrel adorned with "Don't Mess with Texas" — prompting a knowing smile.

A gentleman looked up from behind the desk and said — "

Howdy!" with a slight pause... "Where're y'all from? “

‘Michigan’ we said.

“Where y’all headed?"

"Austin," was the reply.

He asked if we had plans to see anything in particular while we were visiting. We looked at each other, caught by surprise when he said visiting, and that's when we admitted it out loud: we were newly arrived. Moving to Texas — as we speak.

And then it was his turn to surprise.

"Well... Welcome Home."

Strange words, for two people who'd been on the road for the last two days. Strange words — because we hadn't really thought of the gravity of it before that very moment.

But he meant it. In that warm and proud Texas way, where a southern welcome isn't a courtesy — it's a conviction.

I looked around that building. Rows and rows of shelves, full of literature, dividing Texas into regions. Areas. Destinations.

One side of one shelf alone could have covered all of Michigan — from the Lower to the Upper Peninsula.

And in that moment, I understood: no matter how much I had studied about Texas... I was about to find out what I didn't know.

Saddle up.

I knew I was in for a ride.

Farm to Market

Back on the road, there was so much to take in — all of it so different, all of it fresh and new. Tired from traveling yet my eyes couldn't rest.

The road signs kept pulling at me — unlike anything I'd seen anywhere else. FM this. FM that.

I can't help myself. Give me a mystery and I'm reaching for my phone before the next mile marker.

Turns out FM stands for Farm to Market.

Roads built to carry crops and livestock to town — and now carrying two people in Eco, a new hybrid, on its first real adventure, toward a life chosen before seeing everything.

Even the trees looked different.

Post oak. Pecan.

I love that about the drive. Every sign is a question, and curiosity fills the miles.

The Grackle-bassadors

Grackle

At this rest stop in Cumby, we got our second welcome.

Because Texas has its own committee — and they are loud.

The grackle-bassadors. The unofficial bird of Texas — in my book anyway.

I stepped out of the car — and after the wall of heat hit me leaving the air conditioning — the first thing I heard was those birds.

The noise hit me all at once. Loud. Proud. An entire committee of them, squawking their welcome to every traveler passing through.

Eye-opening. And ear-opening.

Now — I'm sure most people pulling into that rest stop were wrapped up in other things. Stretching their legs. Preparing for the next leg of the trip.

But for me, I'm locking this moment into my core memory.

The sound of these birds at the rest stop, just inside a state that was new to me.

Some moments you don't choose to keep. They keep you.

Indelible.

The Full Day Ahead

Still having a full day of bucket-list adventures planned ahead of us before reaching Austin.

You see — it's never been about the destination for me.

I'm a 100% journey-type of girl.

Driving on, past the farm-to-market roads we'd been decoding on my phone all afternoon, past the post oaks and the pecans,

curving around Dallas-Forth Worth making our way south…

As I think back on that day, my mind goes back to the gentleman at the information center. How two words from a stranger can instantly unlock a new chapter.

Welcome home.

So — here's my question for you...

Was there a moment like this when you realized you were home in a new place? A person, meal — maybe even a stranger's few words?

I'd love to hear it. Find me at aevaura — and tell me about your moment.

Your stories, shared here, become part of the gathering.

~Miche,

in the meantime, I will be in the still... gathering.

aevaura is time and presence.

Let's gather what endures.

A small note on listening: this post accompanies Episode One of the aevaura podcast. You can listen or keep reading — the story lives in both places, told the way each medium likes best.