I carry the places I’ve been like a layer of fine silk that initially sits on the surface and eventually absorbs into the fabric of my being.

I carry with me the sights of beauty and sometimes tragedy that I always fail miserably to capture on camera. I invite in the different flavors of what passes my lips and fills my body.

I carry the feeling of sheets so different from the flannel that graces my own bed year round, and the pressure of the water droplets from an unfamiliar shower.

I carry with me the words, laughter and soft eyes of new and very new friends, some who absorb fully into my flesh and some who wash away with the end of proximity.

Sometimes I carry the tender whispers and urgent caresses of lovers. Their residence time is typically longer than most, carried deep into my body by electricity, heat and the miracle of being seen.

I carry with me the places I have been blessed to see on this miraculous ride called life. It grows me layer by layer into a being whose porosity allows more of the world in, and more of my soul out.

A few hours remain until I begin my journey home from Alonnisos, Greece, a place fairly difficult to get to and impossible to leave.

It represents the unique exception of my decision to not repeat destinations. Coming back for the second year of a very special writing retreat has been one of the best decisions I’ve made. This small, remote island, which feels like a village, has captured my heart.

It’s impossible to walk more than a few steps in the tiny downtown area without familiar (or unfamiliar) faces smiling and saying hello. I am still taken by surprise by all those who remember me from my last visit one year ago, and those I’ve just met who make it a point to connect.

I’m struggling with the idea of leaving. If not for the work responsibilities that call me, and intensely missing my daughter, I would have happily extended my trip another week. Or two.

It’s not hard to imagine why I like it here so much. The physical beauty is undeniable – beaches everywhere you look with improbably crystal blue water. Lush, green mountains perfumed by tropical flowers. Sweet grandmothers who emerge out of restaurant kitchens to make sure your dinner filled your belly and heart. The fact that you know each of the island’s four taxi drivers by name, family and favorite restaurant.

But there are so many remarkable places in the world. Why does this one touch me so profoundly?

Here is what I take back with me, and what will keep bringing me back as long as I can:

• The shy young man sitting behind me at a café, who serenades me for hours with his soulful songs, and turns out to be one of the island’s rock stars. His humble request for help with the English lyrics for his new album have cemented our friendship.

• The impossibly handsome nightclub owner with whom I’ve gone from sunset to sunrise sharing stories about India, writing, and the spiritual life. And the magic of a tender heart.

• The young couple who own my favorite jewelry store on the planet, and bring me into their lives as if I was a newfound Greek cousin.

• The owner of the sweet hotel where I stay, who seems to run the whole island, and never fails to ask me about my daughter, my writing, my favorite meals and the gift of what this magical place has given me.

To live in this way forms a space between unimaginable fullness and the freedom of weightlessness in which I can dance, grounded and unbounded.

I carry it all, and pray it will stay with me.

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