(Written in pieces throughout the week. Posting now – Sunday, Father’s Day, after one hell of a week and a hard-fought return to center.)

The bags were packed, the heavy ones at least, and the cottage slowly emptied, much like my tissue box. Sadie and I officially hit the road Wednesday morning, beginning a long, hot 9.5-hour journey in over-100-degree heat to our first stop: my parents’ house, where we’re spending a week before continuing on to Florida.

Tuesday was the final round of goodbyes, and some hit harder than I expected.

The day included farewell hugs to my incredible neighbors, the quiet heroes who have shown up for me time and time again. They’ve stood beside me through some of my hardest moments, offering strength when mine was gone, never asking for anything in return. I also quietly said goodbye to longtime friends, those steady presences who don’t say much but always make sure you know you’re not alone.

Even the most ordinary rituals that day felt deeply emotional.

And of course, life didn’t pause. In the midst of those goodbyes, there were still work demands: meetings, a month-end reviews, and spreadsheets that had to be balanced, even as I was quietly closing a much more personal chapter. The numbers added up. The feelings? Not quite.

One of the hardest goodbyes came Tuesday night. Sadie, my sweet, loyal companion of eleven years sat quietly beside me as we said goodbye to my ex-husband, her other person, and still, in many ways, my friend. After thirty years of shared life, raising children, building careers, surviving storms, and sharing laughter and memories, it was never going to be easy. Our ending wasn’t marked by bitterness, just by time and change and growing in different directions.

And yes, I’ve had my moments (I’m human), but there will always be a place in my heart for him. He’s the father of my children, and someone who holds pieces of my past few others ever will.

Sadie will miss him. And if I’m honest, so will I in my own way.

But there was grace in that moment. Tearful hugs. Quiet understanding. And a mutual wish for peace as we move into separate futures.

So that was Tuesday. Bags packed. Hearts full and heavy. Goodbyes said.

And then, Wednesday morning after more calls, we hit the road.

The rest of the week? Not exactly the exhale I imagined.

Since arriving at my parents’, I’ve been thrown right back into the fire at work. The kind of challenges that test your patience, your endurance, your ability to keep going when every part of you is ready to collapse. The kind of week that makes you wonder, honestly, how much more you can take before you break.

But then came Saturday. And with it, a quiet turning point.

I got back on track with my personal to-do list, finally. I sold the car. Took care of some important logistics for this move and this next chapter, including the process for renewing my passport (you never know when you might want to take flight to see a friend across the world). No, everything isn’t in place yet. And no, I’m not fully okay. But momentum returned. And right now, that’s enough.

And now it’s Sunday. Father’s Day.

What a beautiful way to close out such a heavy, transformative week by spending today with my dad, mom and sister. There’s something grounding about being here with them, and today I’m holding deep appreciation for the many men who have shaped my life and my kids’ lives along the way.

Sunday is my day of gratitude this week.

While gratitude should live in our hearts every day, I lost sight of it in the chaos and emotion of the past several days. But today, I feel it again. I see it clearly. And I’m grateful to close this week with that awareness back in place.

Sadie’s still curled up nearby, her tired body still full of quiet resilience. She hasn’t given up. And neither will I.

This is forward. The door is still open. And we’re still taking the leap.