Some things I’m packing are more than just useful—they’re small echoes of home, weighted with love.
As I prepare for my six-month move to New Zealand, the checklist is growing— visa forms, flight confirmations, weather-appropriate clothes, and all the practicalities of setting up life on the other side of the world. But in between the packing cubes and zippered compartments, I’ve left space for a few quiet treasures—things that don’t serve a purpose in the usual sense, but carry me, anchor me, remind me why I’m doing this.
Each one tells a story. Each one connects me back to someone I love.
A Stuffed Leviathan with a Sleepover Resume
At first glance, it’s just a round, squishy plushie with stubby wings and little felt fangs—adorable, slightly ridiculous, and unmistakably mine. It came from an amusement park called Canada’s Wonderland, home to a massive rollercoaster named the Leviathan. But this little creature isn’t wild or fast or fearsome. It’s soft. Steady. Familiar.
I got it on a trip with my sisters and nieces—one of those golden days that stays lodged in your memory like warm sand between your toes. Since then, it’s been my travel buddy, my makeshift pillow, and my comfort item for small medical procedures. More than once, it’s been loaned out for sleepovers, a stand-in for hugs when I couldn’t be there in person. It smells a little like laundry detergent and a lot like love.
Bringing it with me now feels like packing a piece of my people—tucking in that day at the park, the sleepovers, the inside jokes, the loud laughter and the quiet reassurances. It’s not just a plushie. It’s a time capsule.
The Blanket That’s Already Been Around the World
The second item isn’t mine originally, though it’s mine to carry now.
Nearly 30 years ago, my stepdad backpacked through Greece and brought home a throw blanket. Nothing flashy—earthy tones, a bit sun-faded, but it has the soft wear of something well-loved. When I told him about my plans to go abroad, he handed it to me like a blessing.
He’d carried it across oceans, and now it’s my turn. There’s something profoundly grounding about that—about holding in your hands a thread that spans generations of travelers. I imagine wrapping it around my shoulders on cool New Zealand mornings or laying it out on unfamiliar grass during a local festival. Wherever it goes next, it carries his good luck with it.
It makes me feel watched over. Like I’m part of a bigger story that started long before me and will stretch out long after.
A Photo Album for the Homesick Heart
I’ve always loved printed photos—their texture, the way they make memories feel more real. So I’m bringing a small photo album filled with snapshots from birthdays, barbecues, graduations, and random Tuesdays with the people I care about most.
There’s something comforting in being able to hold an image in your hand. To flip through pages and see my mom’s smile, my best friend mid-laugh, my nieces piled on the couch like puppies. When homesickness hits—and I know it will—this will be my antidote. My reminder that I’m not doing this alone.
They’re cheering me on from across the world. They always have been.
Not Just Luggage, But Love
Packing for this journey has taught me that the most important things don’t always take up the most space.
These aren’t souvenirs. They’re markers. Reminders of where I come from and who I’m carrying with me, emotionally and literally. They won’t show up on packing lists or airport scales, but they’re the weight that balances me.
And I know when I unpack them in my new space—wherever that may be—I’ll feel a little less alone.
Whether you’ve taken a trip like this or are dreaming of one, I hope you’re reminded that preparation isn’t just about passports and plug adapters. Sometimes, it’s about remembering where you started, and finding ways to carry that with you—gently, intentionally, and with heart.
