Four a.m. 

Awake. 

Anxiety works better than an alarm. 

Try to cram everything needed for a year and a half in my backpack. Somehow it fits without sitting on top. One life of routine, work and stress ends while freedom, nomadic tendencies and happiness are on the horizon.

Or so I hope.

Family and friends squish into the car with my baggage. Snow keeps falling. 'Leaving at the perfect time,' they joke with forced smiles. Leaving is harder knowing the pain long absences inflict on loved ones. We'd grown so comfortable here. Is over a year abroad the right call?