Spanish olives. Shishito peppers. Marcona almonds. It was a nosh (and time to honor my older daughter’s birthday) between the hotel breakfast bar and the Italian cafe party in celebration of my dad’s 90th birthday.

There had already been other breakfasts, noshes, and parties this week, five weeks into my five-month journey across the USA. And this night’s would be the culmination of my New York leg of the trip. My husband and daughters were here, as was my brother and nephew and my stepbrother and his family.

There were two fiancés. There were people with new jobs as well as new (and soon-to-be) retirées. There were those finishing a second year of college and those about to go back to college for a second time as a Masters candidate. There was a new home owner and someone with a new apartment.

There was lots of laughter and flowing champagne (although I stuck with cranberry juice in a wine glass, alcohol-free for almost a year now as an intentional decision for Round America with a Duck). There were silly don’t-let-the-night-end photos on the sidewalk under the streetlights afterwards. There was family bigger than each of us individually. And there was love.

As I always say to my hubby when he gives me any olives off his plate when we go out, Olive you.

And yes. Olive all of you. Thank you for joining me on this journey.