The Silence Between Goodbyes and Beginnings

As the years go by, we keep learning, shifting, becoming. Life keeps throwing moments at us—some messy, some magical—and each one shapes who we are. Everyone’s story could be a novel. Mine? It’s been wild, beautiful, and everything in between.

And now, I want to share that story with you.

Not just the past, but what I’m feeling right now. Sometimes I’ll look back, other times I’ll just show you where I stand in this moment. I’ll unwrap it slowly, post by post. So here’s the starting point: I’m a married woman, I have a dog, and together we decided to take on the world. I’ll bring you along through the feelings, thoughts, memories, snapshots… and everything in between.

Because this isn’t just my journey. Maybe it’s a little bit yours too.

It started with a dream… or maybe just a thought:

When we first met, we talked a lot about where we would live if we could choose anywhere.

I didn’t have an answer.

But my husband did.

He said it had always been his childhood dream to live in the United States.

And the moment he said that, it awakened something in me too.

That unexplainable feeling we often get when we watch American movies from the other side of the world — freedom, open space, opportunity… air you can breathe.

I told him, “If you ever go, I’d go with you.”

So we started looking into how it might be possible.

We were in our late twenties, full of hope and a bit of naivety.

But it didn’t take long to realize — it wouldn’t be easy.

Visas, strict requirements, and no real connections.

Just a distant relative’s nickname we barely remembered.

There wasn’t much to build on.

So the dream faded quietly into the background.

Life took over.

We had to set different goals.

We bought a house.

My husband went back to truck driving — not because he loved it, but because we needed the income.

We worked a lot. Took on more than we should have.

And we tried to fit into the life everyone else seemed to expect:

a home, a garden, stable jobs, children somewhere on the horizon.

In the beginning, I found joy in little things — taking care of the garden, decorating our space, imagining what could grow from this life.

But slowly, something shifted.

The cost of living rose.

We changed jobs, pushed harder, stretched further — but it wasn’t enough.

My husband spent long weeks away.

I was alone more often, holding onto moments that used to feel full but now felt heavy.

The pressure grew. The time shrank.

It didn’t feel like life anymore — just survival.

Still, I stood by him as he pursued one of his real dreams: becoming a driving instructor.

He did it. He opened his own small business.

But soon we realized, even that wasn’t what we imagined.

Even freedom came with limits.

That’s when we started seeing it clearly.

Maybe we didn’t want the “standard” life after all.

Maybe we didn’t need the house–kids–30-years-in-one-place kind of story.

We craved something else.

Space. Movement. Freedom. Air.

And once again, the idea of moving abroad came back.

It never fully left — it just waited.

At one point, we even considered Canada.

We watched videos of other people starting over there — truck drivers who moved, struggled, and built a new life.

But every time, we hit a wall.

Something told us: this isn’t your path… not yet.

We weren’t waiting anymore.

We were tired.

Tired of chasing money just to get by.

Tired of playing along with a system that didn’t leave room for dreams.

We had to be honest with ourselves.

We didn’t want to keep fighting for a version of life that wasn’t ours.

We didn’t want to wake up ten years from now still wondering:

"What if we had left?"

And so… we’re leaving.

Or maybe, we’re finally arriving.

At a point where change feels more natural than staying.

Where not knowing feels better than being stuck.

But where do you go, when you're ready to begin again?

And how do you know when you’ve reached that invisible line between what was… and what could be?

We’re walking it now.

And this — this is the first step.