Seven Days Until We Leave Everything Behind

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's strange ...

how the closer you get to a journey of a lifetime,

the more real the weight becomes.

Not heavy — just alive.

People keep asking if we're excited.

And we are.

But excitement is only one layer of this.

Under it sits anticipation, courage, fear, freedom,

grief, wonder —

all sitting in the same breath.

Leaving home for a year isn't just travel.

It's shedding, choosing, becoming.

It's looking at your life and saying:

I want more for myself.

I want more for my son.

I want more for my mum, before time asks

questions we can't answer.

In seven days, all the things we've been planning

—

the maps, the bookings, the dreams, the reasons

—

finally turn into motion.

Seven days until Leo sees the world from the

window seat of a plane

his mind may not remember –

but his heart absolutely will.

Seven days until mum steps into a life

she once dreamed of but never had the chance to

live.

Seven days until I become the woman

who didn't just dream of changing her life —

but actually did.

Right now, life feels like it's holding its breath with

us.

The sunsets feel different.

The breeze feels like it's already somewhere else.

And I am learning, in real time, that big decisions

rarely feel clean.

They feel like truth — trembling but sure.

We haven't left yet.

but every goodbye, every final grocery shop,

every last load of washing, every moment of

doubt ...

is preparing us for the moment we step forward.

Seven days from now, we'll walk into an airport

with three passports and a year of possibility

ahead of us.

Seven days from now, everything familiar

becomes something we carry instead of

something we live inside.

Seven days from now, we begin the story that will

become Leo's childhood and our family's legacy.

Seven days from now, we begin the story that will

become Leo's childhood and our family legacy.

Seven days.

Seven heartbeats.

Seven steps toward the life we chose with our

whole chest.

We're almost there.

And somehow, the almost is just as beautiful as

the arrival.