Nearly five years ago (on March 28, 2010), the husband and I decided to move to England.
We sold most of our things, quit our jobs, bought one-way tickets and then got on a plane and travelled the 7,573 kilometers from Vancouver, British Columbia to London, England.
We arrived to London Heathrow jet-lagged, irritable, and slightly buzzed from the free wine (thank you British Airways). My wonderful friend Erin picked us up from the airport and delivered us to our temporary accommodations in Windsor, Berkshire. We immediately collapsed in a heap and slept for 12 hours.
The next morning, the husband and I decided we needed some fresh air, so we took a walk into town.
I remember the specific moment…
We were walking along Thames Street in Windsor when we spotted a store called TK Maxx (not to be confused with TJ Maxx, which is pretty much the same, except different). We were both in need of some socks and underwear (we packed light), so we decided to go have a tickety boo. The men’s department was downstairs so the husband said he’d go have a look around and find me in a few minutes.
As I looked through the assortment of ladies “knickers”, it hit me…
I was like, “Oh S#@*!”
We had just moved to England… We had left our friends, and family, and friends that are just like family, and our favorite pizza place, and our favorite pannekoek house, and our favorite place to watch birds, and our jobs, and our home behind. I nearly fainted. I had to grab onto a nearby rack to support me. When my legs stopped shaking, I went and found the husband, who told me that he had had a similar response. We immediately went and had a cocktail.
We lived in England for three years, and had the time of our lives. We made new friends, we travelled to amazing European destinations, we took walks in the country, we drank ale in quaint little pubs, and we learned a lot about ourselves, and each other.
Three years later, a work opportunity arose in Los Angeles and we decided to go.
We sold most of our things, quit our jobs, bought one-way tickets and then got on a plane and travelled the 8,766 kilometers from London, England to Los Angeles, California.
We arrived to LAX jet-lagged, irritable, and slightly buzzed from the free wine (thank you Alaska Air). We picked up our rental car, drove to our temporary accommodations, and promptly fell asleep.
The next morning, I turned on our TV and watched as a local weatherman pointed to a map of California, and presented the forecast…
I was like, “Oh S#@*!”
We had moved to Los Angeles… We had left our friends, and friends that are just like family, and our favorite Indian takeaway, and our favorite pub, and our favorite place to watch birds, and our jobs, and our home behind.
We have lived in LA for two years, and we are enjoying it immensely. We’ve made new friends, we’ve travelled to amazing American destinations, we’ve taken walks on the beach, and we’ve learned a lot about ourselves, and each other.
There are defining moments in your life… Moments when you decide to take a BIG risk…
Like when you tell someone you love them.
Or quit your job to start your own business.
Or go back to school.
Or get married.
Or have a baby.
Or buy a house.
Or buy a trampoline!
Or move to the other side of the world.
You cross your fingers, and you pray a little pray, and you hope a little hope… and then you jump in feet first.
And yes, you might say, “Oh S#@*!” but Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all (Helen Keller).