Postcards from Italy

“No regrets”. What a ridiculous statement. I regret plenty; those hideous skirt/pant combos in the late 90s, 40 percent of the sentences that fly out of my mouth, heck that burger I ate for lunch. All of us lucky enough to be born into the free world have one liberty that governs how we live – Free choice. Yet, if we’re honest most of us regret. We regret things we chose not to do and plenty we did.

I’m a mum. I never thought that would be a noun that I would use describe myself and yet here we are. I hate to be one of ‘those people’ but I fucking love my daughter. She has changed my outlook on relationships, life and how I view myself. I feel grateful to this small blob of flesh for waking me up from the bored, narcissistic stiff adulthood encouraged me to morph into.

My new perspective raised questions, ones that I had asked myself before but now had new meaning. Mainly, why do we live the way we live? You know; the standard routine, wake up, go to work, come home, watch TV, sleep and repeat.

My husband, Daniel and I love to travel and we’ve done plenty of it. This short stint at home with my little human (aka maternity leave) has me questioning why I’m so eager to race back to work and not take advantage of life. Don’t get me wrong, I do find fulfilment in my job but it’s not going to be the experience that I am most thankful as I lay on my death-bed.

So, when Daniel came home from a long day in the office proclaiming he was moving to Italy, I don’t think he was too shocked when I wholeheartedly took his statement as an invitation. And with an enormous, FUCK IT! We’re moving to Italy with our seven month old in toe.

This is one decision I know I won’t regret.

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