I’m sitting in the kitchen of my family home and I have one million things to say on this subject but perhaps I only need a few words to get the need across and eat dinner on time.

Life moves really fast. Really, really, really fast. I’m a teacher and try to impart this wisdom on my elementary students each year (six and seven-year-olds respectfully) despite knowing they cannot possibly know the gravity of time at this stage of their lives. They have known me for one entire sixth of their lives whereas I have known them for only one twenty-ninth of mine. Each year, everything seems to condense and certain periods of life bend time with force far exceeding what one would deem natural.

Over the last year Luke and I got into a routine. A really great routine but a predictable one. School / work, Blue Apron (praise BA), this bar or that bar (and really, nowhere else because after a few years in NY you can begin to obsess with the familiar) and back again. Time seemed to blend together in a way that made it almost impossible to mark units of distance. How long ago was X? When was the last time we went to Y?

It wasn’t until we went on a ten day vacation to Copenhagen, Barcelona and then Florence that the seconds, minutes, and hours we we’re living felt… vital. It’s not that our daily lives weren’t feeling immensely important and beautiful but we we’re taking it for granted. We hadn’t had an interruption to our day-to-day and sometimes, an interruption is all that’s needed to wake you up. Each day of our trip was like exploring a new planet. We felt the wonder in every step because we knew they wouldn’t last forever.

Luke and I want to explore America in a van for many of the same reasons but for me, it’s to welcome interruption – the kind that will make me pay attention to the world. All of it. There is sublime beauty in that which is momentary. I’m ready for all the feels.