Ten years on, I finally have the literal and metaphorical tools to begin to process what I experienced in New Zealand.

But there’s still a part of me that deeply longs for that transitory lifestyle. To be on the road, to live out of a suitcase, to have a cigar box altar that I set up at each stop - lined with photos of family, prayers for safe crossings, mementos of home, the key to a storage unit.