We booked a one way ticket. Partly out of the need to have a departure date and partly as a symbol of the way we wanted to live from this point on. It’s not that we thought we’d never return home but we wanted to feel space and time in a different way and somehow knowing when the end date was put a limit on the feeling, it was like a fuzzy finish line in the distance that keeps you from growing beyond who you are.
A different life was what we wanted. We agreed that together we would push and inspire each other to be more than we could be as separates. We were still very much our own people, different in so many ways, but together in the most meaningful ones. We weren’t naïve enough to think that being unique was the goal, because everyone is doing (and insta-documenting!) crazy–cool adventures these days. But we still craved a bit more than the ordinary and we hoped to find it side by side.
And then we had a baby.
All the adventures we went on and all the goals we had before seemed to be a hazy memory of a life that all of a sudden was so much crisper and shone in technicolor compared to the shades of grey that was our past, a past we thought was vibrant and rad. In an instant the purpose of life was so clear and we wondered: what if we’re on a trajectory that would land us in all the usual potholes of life.
So we bought a one way ticket. And with it came the space to imagine how we would aspire beyond our walls.