The Weight of Departure


House No. 39. 

I haven’t moved into it yet. But I already know I won’t be packing it into boxes.

By the time you’ve moved 38 times across 11 cities and 4 countries, you start to measure life differently. Not in square footage or bank statements, but in how long you let your heart stay open before the next inevitable goodbye.

People have often asked me: Why so many moves? Was it work? Was it choice? Was it restlessness?

Sometimes I moved because I had to. Other times, because I knew something inside me had already left, even if my body hadn’t caught up yet.


This post is not about the cities, or the airports, or even the houses. It’s about the pattern I only recently recognized, one where I build something beautiful; a business, a friendship, a future, and then quietly, and respectfully walk away.

And now, as I stand before House No. 39, metaphorically or literally, I wonder: What happens if I don’t walk away this time? What happens if I stay?

Not just physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Unapologetically.

What if this isn’t about departure at all, but all about arrival? 


To be continued… 

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