New England & Each Other

We didn’t go to New England for the leaves—we went to find each other again.

There wasn’t a grand plan for this trip. In fact, I didn’t plan it at all. Andrew did.

He booked the flights. Rented the car. Mapped a few scenic routes. I was in a season of being constantly gone—traveling for work, leading projects, showing up everywhere. And like I often do, I started to pull back emotionally without even realizing it. Andrew felt it, and his only ask was simple: “Let’s just go somewhere. I just want to be with you.”

So I said yes. And I showed up.

Slow Mornings, Open Roads

We started in Boston. The idea was to ease into fall—to shift our pace as the leaves started changing. It felt symbolic, like we were stepping out of one rhythm and into another.

There was something about riding bikes through Harvard’s campus and the streets of Boston that made everything feel… softer. We weren’t talking about work or schedules or what to make for dinner. Just pedaling, pointing things out, moving side by side like we used to.

That night we went to a Red Sox game at Fenway. I didn’t expect to like it—I’m not a sports person. But I ended up loving it. The noise, the nostalgia, the people—it was cinematic. Popcorn in my lap, Andrew in his Red Sox gear, and all I could think was, we’re still really good at this.

The Art of the Scenic Detour

We rented a car and road-tripped through the Northeast—Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and back through Massachusetts and Rhode Island. We had a rough plan, but some nights we didn’t even have a hotel booked. We’d just drive until we didn’t want to anymore and find a spot to land. That probably sounds stressful to some people, but for us it felt freeing. Like we had enough space to make decisions moment by moment.

We were so excited to drive the Kancamagus Highway, this legendary scenic road through New Hampshire. We stopped constantly—leaves, creeks, trailheads, overlooks. The air smelled like woodsmoke and wet moss. Every time we opened the car door, it was like stepping into a postcard. Birch trees whispered, leaves skittered across the pavement, and somewhere in the distance, someone was chopping firewood. Three hours in, we realized we had only gone five miles. But it didn’t matter. That’s kind of how the whole trip felt: like permission to stop whenever the moment called for it.

Remembering Who We Are

I think one of the most important things about traveling without kids—especially when you do travel with them often—is that you get to feel who you are without carrying anyone else. As a mom, I forget what it feels like to not be managing or orchestrating. On this trip, I could just be.

But it took a minute to get there. The first couple days, I was still checking work emails and mentally parenting from afar. I didn’t even realize how tightly wound I was until we had our first quiet dinner and I had nothing to say. It was awkward—and exactly what I needed. That silence gave us a reset. It made space for something better to show up.

There was a slowness to this trip that let a different part of me wake back up. The part that isn’t on a schedule. The part that has long, meandering conversations. The part that laughs without rushing to the next thing.

We had a deck of conversation cards that Andrew surprised me with as soon as we landed. He knows I crave deep conversation, and we went through the whole deck—one card at a time, across the days, finishing the last one on the way to the airport. Even though we’ve had similar conversations over our 15 years of marriage, the answers keep changing. It reminded me that we’re not just growing older together—we’re growing newer.

I remember one card asked something simple, like “What do you miss?” And he said, “You laughing at my dumb jokes.” And I really thought about that. After a while he started to make jokes and I relaxed and started to laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it felt like us. It was super ironic but the last card that was in the deck was “what’s the secret to having a good marriage”.

Places That Felt Like Us

Camden, Maine was everything I needed—walkable, charming, quiet. I loved our bed and breakfast and how the town just seemed to invite you to stroll slowly. Stowe, Vermont was beautiful too, but busier. More of a picture than a presence. Salem wasn’t what I imagined—less spooky magic, more commercial shops—but even that was part of the fun.

We made wrong turns. Got rerouted. Found ourselves wandering through antique shops and fall festivals. Tried every kind of seasonal dish and dessert we could find. Andrew experiences travel through food—and I experience it through design and feeling—so between the restaurants, signage, branding, and bakery cases, we were both thriving.

We got a pretty good laugh when a lady approached us after we walked up a big hill to go to a restaurant, both of us had cameras in hand. He said “Who’s the photographer?”, Andrew replied “Well she is, but I am taking some too”. Then she laughed and responded with “Figured! You don’t look like the photographer type. But she does”. We looked at each other in bewilderment trying to figure out if it was a compliment or not, then we burst out laughing.

This Was a Yellow Trip

If you’ve followed Stori, you know we use color to describe how a trip feels. This one? Definitely yellow.
Not because it was bright and cheery all the time—but because it was open. Flexible. A little unstructured on purpose. We didn’t have to do everything. We didn’t have to stick to a plan. That made room for real connection.

We made a playlist for our drives. Packed more outfits than we needed. I wore the same leggings every day. We picked up a book about the East Coast and kept it in the glove box so we could pull out fun facts as we went. And we took more photos than I can count—because that’s how we both slow down. We notice through our lenses. And then we trade perspectives.

If You Had Been Watching Us…

I think you would’ve seen a couple slowly warming back up to each other. Laughing. Talking. Arguing about how many photo stops we really needed. Finding our groove again. Fifteen years in, and we still have so much fun together. We still surprise each other.

He led this time—I got to rest. I got to follow. And in that space, I got to remember how much I love who he is when he’s not in task mode either.

What I Didn’t Know We Needed

I didn’t realize how much space had started to form between us—not because anything was wrong, but because life moves fast. Kids. Work. Responsibilities. You drift without meaning to.

Some of the reconnection came in big, beautiful ways. But some of it looked like sitting in silence in the car after a disagreement and realizing—oh right, we’re just tired. There’s grace in that, too.

But somewhere between the back roads and the bagels, the baseball game and the gift shop, we came back together.

Not all at once.
But slowly.
In between the stops and beneath the leaves, we remembered who we are when we’re not moving so fast.

What about you?

When’s the last time you left room for a reset?
Not a big escape. Just a little space.
Enough to remember how it feels to choose each other again.

📍 Trip Notes

If you're planning something similar, here are the stops we made and a few details we loved:

Boston, MA
– Rode bikes around Harvard
– Attended a Red Sox game at Fenway (better than expected!)
– Stayed at Crowne Plaza Woburn
Wiscasset, ME
– Antique shops, small-town lunch spot
– Perfect little stop for quiet charm
Camden, ME
– Cozy BnB, walkable town with fall views
– Great place to slow down and reset
Kancamagus Highway, NH
– Endless scenic stops (literally—we only made it 5 miles in 3 hours)
– Peak foliage in full glory
Stowe, VT
– Gorgeous but busy
– Worth a visit, even if you don’t stay long
Salem, MA
– Kitschy, a little more commercial than expected
– Still fun for fall vibes and people-watching
Newport, RI
Road Trip Style
– We didn’t always have a hotel booked ahead—added to the adventure
– Used conversation cards during drives (highly recommend)
– Ate everything that smelled good

Finding the beauty in the little things.