Let’s Open a BnB

In the weeks that followed, we didn't fall in love, we slammed into it, or, it slammed into us, obliterating our current lives.

We had jobs, routines, coffee spots. But what we wanted was possibility.

After humoring enough far-flung dreams, disturbing the neighborhood with phat-ass-pressing-against-the-horn-front-seat-sex and a shared craving to outrun the ordinary, the impulse to leave was born.

There wasn’t a lot of thought behind it.  Our guts said go, and we listened.

Because really, imagine lying on your deathbed, skin on your face wrinkled like an old man’s nutsack on a cold day, clinging to the mystery of what your life could have looked like. Unable to step fully into death because you never fully stepped into life.

Talk about a nightmare.

All we really knew was that we loved each other and that somewhere, somehow, some way, we wanted to open a bed and breakfast. 

And the reason we were doing it? 

What we were doing, felt right. 

That’s it.

So on March 15th, we stopped talking and started packing.

We slated June 1st for our departure date, a short two and a half months to tie up loose ends and get the hell out of dodge.