Before The Leaving Begins
Before every trip, there’s a moment where I stop and think, “Wow… this is a lot to step away from.” Not in a negative way, just in that real, human way where travel means pausing the daily rhythm of family, work, and everything I’m responsible for.
I love to explore, but stepping out of the everyday takes intention, energy, and that emotional shift from “showing up for everyone” to “allowing myself to go.”
As Adam and I made our way to Portugal, that feeling arrived right on schedule.
Right from the get go, our flights were delayed that morning; something that would usually throw me off, but instead it gave me the chance to get a little more holiday decorating done. A tiny gift in disguise. One less thing for “future” Marsha to worry about.
(Photo: Adam and I exploring Lisbon, Portugal.)
The Guilt That Comes With Loving Deeply
Leaving always stirs up that familiar tug: mom guilt.
Not because something is wrong.
Not because Porter isn’t cared for.
Not because our home can’t function.
In fact, our daughter Breagh and her partner step in with so much love and consistency that brings forth so much gratitude.
They help with Porter’s very busy schedule.
They look after the animals.
They hold the home with such care that it makes travel possible for us.
And still… the mom guilt whispers,
“You should be there.”
“You should stay close.”
“You should be the one holding everything together.”
The voice doesn’t come from my family; it comes from years of caring deeply, mothering deeply, loving deeply.
The Work That Still Lives In My Heart
Then there’s the work side. Not guilt in a shameful way… but the quiet pull.
I trust my team wholeheartedly. They are strong, capable, creative, and they thrive without me (and often better, if we’re being honest).
But I still love being there with them, especially in our busy seasons; and, it’s not because they need rescuing, but because showing up with them fills me with joy and sooo much connection.
The Judgements That Don't Tell The Full Story
And layered on top of all that… the comments from the sidelines:
“Must be nice.”
“Off to Europe again?”
“Wish I had your life.”
“Must be nice to get away.”
Here’s what people don’t see:
We are a very busy couple.
We chose this life - the businesses, the pace, the responsibility, the freedom.
None of it landed in our laps.
It came from intention, sacrifice, long nights, and a whole lot of passion.
So yes, it is nice.
And yes, it’s earned.
And yes, people will judge anyways.
I’ve learned to let that go.
Grounding Myself In The In-Between
Here’s the real truth I’m learning:
Travel doesn’t automatically refill the cup.
I have to choose to ground myself before I leave, and again when I return.
For years, I’d land back home and instantly dive into cooking, laundry, groceries, and all the work life with zero transition.
But I’m choosing differently now.
A softer landing.
Letting laundry wait a day.
Letting takeout be the welcome-home meal.
Letting myself ease back in instead of snapping back in.
And, just letting the small rituals steady me, like my morning matcha on my back deck, peace and easing into a slow morning.
Even the good kind of travel takes energy.
Where Europe Teaches Me To Slow Down
And then there’s Europe…
the place that softens me the moment I arrive.
The cobblestone streets that slow your steps.
The cafés that invite you to linger.
The squares filled with music, families, wine, and conversation.
The effortless fashion.
And the food - OH. EM. GEE.
The warm bread.
The pastries.
The pasta.
The markets.
Joy woven into every single bite.
Europe asks you to live differently - slower, deeper, more awake.
(Photo: Matcha)
The Gift Of Just Being Us
One of the greatest gifts of traveling - especially when it’s just the two of us - is the time it gives Adam and me.
Not scheduled time or “fit it in if we can” time,
but real, uninterrupted space to reconnect.
To linger.
To talk.
To breathe.
Time to “Just Be”.
There’s nothing to manage:
no supper to plan,
no household tasks waiting,
no meetings to work around,
no calls or calendars pulling us in different directions.
Just the two of us, unhurried. Travel softens me, opens me, and makes room for the kind of closeness that so easily slips through the cracks of everyday life.
Letting Myself Land In Layers
(Photo: A sign on the wall in the entrance of our home.)
Travel always brings me back to myself. It forces me to pause from the busyness we live in without even noticing. It lets me learn, observe, breathe. And when I return home, I land in layers; body first, then mind, then heart.
I come back with clarity.
I come back with intention.
I come back more rooted in my life, my love, and my choices.
Lots of Love,
Marsha
