I backpacked a lot in my 20s. Europe, Australia, always with the same intention: I wasn’t coming back.
Every time, something ended it. Money ran out. Couldn’t find work. Couldn’t figure out how to stay. 🤷🏼♀️
And every time I landed back home, I felt like I’d failed. Like the free life didn’t work out for me.
I still joke about it- how I went around the world searching for love, but it was here the whole time.
I met Jason here. In NB. Mosquitos and snowstorms and all.
I still think about it sometimes …where I’d be if I’d stayed overseas. What I’d be doing. Probably somewhere warmer. ☀️
But I wouldn’t be here. And here is where the thing I was actually looking for turned out to be. 💕
Funny how that works. The universe just kept sending me home until I finally understood why…and I got to experience some pretty cool 😎 stuff along the way.
