On a recent visit to my childhood home on the Canadian prairie, I discovered something unexpected while rummaging through an old nightstand. Scrawled in pink ink, tucked in the back of my high school Happy Bunny notebook, was a travel bucket list from about 10 years ago.
It had to be from sometime around graduation, given my apparent priorities: “Celebrate St. Patty’s in Ireland” and “Party in Ibiza.” (Ahh, to salivate over turning the legal drinking age once again.) I grabbed a pen and chuckled as I crossed off “Go to Oktoberfest.” Then I paused in awe when I saw the points beneath it:
“Make a living off writing.”
“Leave everything and don’t look back.”
In that moment, I looked back, and memories washed over me. I’ve hopped around the planet for years -- visiting more than 30 countries, with stints living in Thailand and Germany. So much of this past decade has felt like a series of happy coincidences. Little did I realize, I really was following my heart the whole time.