Getting Ready to Leave — Trusting the Leap

We’re getting ready to leave.

After months of dreaming, building, adjusting plans, and holding our breath through the unknowns, our departure is finally in sight. The countdown is real—and so is the swirl of emotions that come with it.

This isn’t just a vacation. It’s a full reset. A family adventure. A choice to step out of the familiar and into something we can’t fully plan or predict.

We’ve packed up our home, passed on responsibilities, and made the bittersweet decision to step away from a company we helped build from the ground up. For my husband, this marks a clear and final turning point—he’s ready to close that chapter and move toward working the land and building something entirely new. For me, it’s more of a shift in roles. I’m stepping back, no longer in the day-to-day, but still supporting from the sidelines as a kind of consultant while we both navigate what comes next.

We're trading structure for space. Hustle for presence. Control for trust.

And speaking of trust… we’ve also decided to try our hand at renting our house while we’re away. Just like everything else, this decision came with its share of vulnerability. Opening up our home to others is both practical and emotional. It’s a leap of faith—but one that could make this journey a little more sustainable and open doors we hadn’t considered.

And then, of course, there’s the bus.

Our little home-on-wheels has been a labor of love. We’ve done everything we can to get it ready—but for the past two weeks, we’ve been stuck in suspense, waiting on the final approval from the SAAQ to register it as an official RV. Until we get that, we can’t insure it properly. So here we are, holding our breath, hoping the green light comes through any day now so we can officially hit the road.

That’s been one of the biggest lessons of this entire process: letting go of what we can’t control. We’ve done our part, now we wait, trust, and do our best to keep our hearts open and our minds calm.

Through all of this, we’ve felt so held by the people around us. Friends have shown up with meals, warm encouragement, and thoughtful gifts—like packs of pink Hubba Bubba gum (because joy hides in the details). We’ve shared dinners, hugs, and those beautiful quiet moments that make you realize just how much love lives in your community.

We’ve also been savouring the little luxuries we know we’ll miss: long hot showers, wide open living space, the comfort of our bed, the ease of grabbing what we need from a fully-stocked pantry. It’s the kind of gratitude that sneaks in when you’re about to leave something behind.

This transition hasn’t been all dreamy planning and sunshine either. The stress, the unknowns, the sheer weight of it all—it’s tested us. When my husband made the decision to step away from the company, it stirred something deep in me. It brought up a lot of feelings—uncertainty, sadness, even fear. So much of our life had been built around that shared work. Letting it go meant reimagining what life looks like as partners—not just in business, but in the day-to-day rhythm of our family. It’s been a process of adjusting, of having honest conversations, and of learning how to support each other differently.

We’ve had to relearn how to speak to each other, how to listen when it’s hard, how to take care of our own needs without losing sight of each other or our family. It’s a work in progress, and we’re doing our best to offer grace, even in the messy moments.

There’s so much excitement. But there’s also letting go—of the way things were, of who we were, of what we thought life had to look like. And beneath it all, a quiet surrender… to trust the universe, to believe in the timing, and to welcome what’s next.

We’re not ready in the traditional sense. But maybe being “ready” isn’t about perfection—it’s about courage. And we’ve got that.

Thanks for being here. For following along. For cheering us on.

It’s the best spring cleaning of our lives.