There’s a particular kind of quiet that follows a hard decision. Not the peaceful kind — the other kind. The kind that sits in your chest like something half-finished, waiting for you to figure out what comes next.
I’ve been living in that quiet for a little while now. And I’ve decided the best thing I can do with it is write.
So here we go.
On Love, Loss, and Knowing When to Walk Away
I want to start with the harder part, because pretending it isn’t there would be dishonest — and if you’ve read even a word of this blog, you know I don’t do dishonest.
I’m single again.
I made that choice. I want to say that clearly, not because it softens the blow (it doesn’t), but because owning it matters. I chose to end a relationship with a man I loved deeply — and I mean deeply, in that bone-level way that catches you off guard at your age, when you thought you had yourself pretty well figured out.
He was also one of my dear friends for ten years.
It would have been a beautiful story, except for the parts that weren’t. There were entanglements with his ex-wife — complicated, ongoing, and consequential — that he didn’t disclose before things shifted into something more than friendship. He gave me the truth in small pieces, one careful bit at a time, which is its own kind of manipulation, whether intentional or not. By the time I had the full picture, I was completely under his spell. I was already in love.
And so I had to make the hardest call: walk away from someone I loved because the relationship — in all its real and complicated beauty and fullness — did not serve me. Would never serve me. Could not, as long as those entanglements remained. And, she is “dug in” and isn’t going anywhere…guaranteed!
Leaving was the saddest thing I’ve ever done. Not because I didn’t know it was right — I did, I do — but because it cost me more than just a romance. It cost me a friendship I treasured for a decade, and that friendship cannot be restored. Trust, once broken that thoroughly, doesn’t come back. It just leaves a shaped space where something good used to be.
I let myself feel all of that. I’m still feeling it.
And then I got up.
Because here’s what I know after all these years of roaming: grief is real and necessary, but it is not the destination. I will be fine. I have always been fine, even in the seasons that didn’t look like it from the outside. I will love again — fiercely, foolishly, hopefully — even if it happens five minutes before I drop dead. That’s not denial. That’s faith. And I’ve earned every ounce of it.
The sun has set
On Flying Solo — and the Beautiful Business of It
Now for the part that’s been making me wake up early in the morning with a brain on fire.
I have news.
After six years of doing good work for other people — and I mean it, genuinely good work, work I’m proud of — I’ve decided to fly solo again. Or rather, solo-ish. Because I’ve learned that the best adventures, in life and in business, are better when you bring good people along.
I am launching a small tour company. You may have already guessed the name.
Free and Roaming.
Yes — this blog, this community, this little corner of the internet where we’ve been talking about independence and adventure and the audacity of still wanting more out of life — it’s becoming something bigger. My collaborators in this venture are people I trust, and together we are building something I’m genuinely excited about: small, curated, thoughtfully designed tours for the discerning traveler.
Not the kind where you’re shuffled through forty attractions in four days with a laminated name tag around your neck.
The kind where you experience the destination. Where the itinerary has been built with care and curiosity and a real understanding of what it feels like to have a little expendable income, a lot of wanderlust, and a deep desire to actually immerse yourself in a culture rather than just photograph it.
We’re talking small groups. Beautiful locales. Travel that feels intentional and personal and a little bit like a gift you give yourself.
More details — routes, dates, how to get on the list — are coming soon. But I wanted you to know. I wanted the people who have been reading these words and nodding along to be the first to hear it.
On Change, as it is…the Whole Point
Here’s what I’ve come to understand about this particular season of my life: the heartbreak and the business launch are not separate stories. They’re the same story.
They’re both about deciding, once again, that I am not finished. That I am not too old or too tired or too scarred to build something new. That I can hold loss and possibility in the same two hands and keep moving forward anyway.
I believe in love. I still do, stubbornly, cheerfully, without apology. I think the right relationship finds you when you’re busy living your actual life — not waiting for it, not arranging yourself around someone else’s comfort, but out in the world, doing the things that light you up. And what lights me up is travel, always has, always will. Movement. Curiosity. The moment you arrive somewhere and everything feels slightly unfamiliar and completely alive.
So that’s where I’ll be. Planning and escorting tours. Writing about it. Showing up for the life I want, with my whole heart, while leaving the door open for whatever — or whoever — wants to join me on the journey.
Adventure doesn’t expire. Curiosity keeps us young. And resilience? Resilience is just love in work clothes.
Come along for the ride.
Yours in faith and fun, and still blessed to be…
Free and Roaming
Coming of Age Through the Freedom of Travel 