Part 4 - The Logistics of Leaving (Home)

Packing up everything you own is exhausting. Sorting into piles of pack, store, trash, give away, is one thing. Then you realize the initial pack pile is about double what’s actually feasible to take.

Of all the details regarding our departure, there are a handful of moments that stand out. My dad telling me that if I need a wingman, he’ll be there, with tears in his eyes. My mom losing it when she dropped me at the airport before my flight overseas. My brother losing it on the golf course with a “I’m gonna miss you man.” My aunt tearing up with a “I don’t think I’ll see you again for a while.” Addie’s dad with a desperate hug at the airport and a “Do well over there, okay?” for her; then a firm handshake and a “Take care of everyone over there. I’m counting on you!” for me. Addie’s mom shepherding us through airport check-in and then bawling at the last second as she headed for the doors.

These moments of emotional overload, the tension underneath boiling to the surface. These are the moments, to me, that define a life worth living. We love big. We live hard. We’re immensely grateful for the love in our respective lives and we’re committed to building a sustainable foundation to do our best with whatever life puts in front of us. We want that foundation for our future kid(s). Before it can set, we have to build the forms and pour the wet concrete. That’s what this move is for us. A messy experiment that will solidify for our future to stand upon.

The morning I drafted this, Addie reminded me of the three rules that make her tick: do what you say you’re going to do; move your body; try to get better. We said we would explore. We said we would challenge ourselves. We said that when fear was the primary motivator to stay we would go. We said we would learn together. And so… we chose to walk through a door that opened for us.