(Excerpt)

I woke up with the sunrise the first morning of our 10 year anniversary trip. I'm not generally a "morning person," but there was the sun, urging me to get out of bed, encouraging me to go outside and inhale the glossy break of day. I pulled my husband from the warm bed, and we stepped outside. With the grass under our feet we planned the rest of our lives; 10 years down, and 70 more to go.

During our trip, we walked through redwood forests, explored, breathed the piney air into our lungs, planned, promised, and forgave. I closed my eyes tight until they sparked and stung, then opened them to freshness, and we reset.

We made more intentions, then walked toward the ocean, dug a hold, and buried them deep in the sand. We made plans 10 years ago, then space, time, and life took our plans our ideals, our two-dimensional views, and set them on fire.

In exchange, we were given so much more.

We created this life by living it, and plans have been pushed aside, forgotten and surrendered. Now, we simply open our hands and release ourselves to the adventure on the horizon.