I had never had my tarot cards read before. Not because I doubted them — but because I was still holding on. Bali has a way of loosening what the heart has kept clenched. I sat across from a woman I had never met. I offered no history. No explanations. Only my hands, open on the table. The cards spoke first. Heartbreak. Betrayal. A love that fractured trust. She told me the miscommunication was complete now. That the lesson had been learned. That it was safe to release what h

Bali was never just a stop on our itinerary. It became a remembering. Out of every place we’ve been so far, this leg of our journey has been the absolute highlight — not because of luxury or landmarks, but because of people. Because of presence. Because of the way life is lived here with so much heart, and so little excess. The culture is gentle but grounded. The people work harder than most of us ever will — long days, little pay — yet somehow remain generous, helpful, accom

Singapore wasn’t just our first stop — it was the perfect introduction to a year of exploring the world. It felt intentional. Gentle. Effortless. Like the universe placed us there because we needed a soft landing before the adventure really began. And somehow, Singapore managed to impress not just us… but my mum, who is famously one of the world’s toughest critics. If she says something is exceptional, trust me — it was. 🇸🇬✨ The Cleanest, Safest, Most Beautiful Start The fi

A mother, a toddler, and a 12-month journey across the world — chasing sunlight, healing, and a childhood lived under open skies. I’m writing this from 30,000 feet in the sky — somewhere between Australia and the rest of our lives. Below me is everything familiar. Above me is everything waiting. And beside me is a little boy who thinks every cloud is a piece of magic floating past his window. This is the moment it became real. Not when we packed the suitcases. Not when we per

People don't wake up one morning and decide to leave everything behind. It happens slowly, then all at once — in the quiet moments between who you were and who you know you're meant to become. For us, it began with a heaviness we couldn't name. Routine that felt too tight. Days that blurred. Loss that hit too close. A world that suddenly felt small when we knew, deep down, it wasn't. And then there was Leo — two years old, wide-eyed, soft-hearted, and soaking in the world wit

There is a strange kind of magic that happens in the space before a big life change. Suitcases half-packed. Lists everywhere. A home slowly shifting from lived-in to let-go. A toddler sensing something is different, even if he can't name it. A grandmother folding clothes with hands that have raised two generations. We haven't left yet. But in so many ways, the journey has already begun. People keep asking us the same question: "A whole year around the world? With a toddler?

There are only seven days left. Seven sunrises. Seven sleeps. Seven chances to stand inside the life we've always known before we step into one we've only ever imagined. The house feels different now. Not empty — but in transition. Like it knows we're leaving. Suitcases sit open on the floor, half-packed, half-waiting. Leo's tiny shoes are beside my mum's sandals. Passport wallets rest next to a growing pile of memories we're still deciding whether to take or leave behind. It