I once jumped out of a perfectly good plane. On a whim, way back when, before child, we tried sky diving. My partner turned green. I loved it. The free fall was exhilarating, the time floating under the canopy was peaceful with a great view, and the landing was far more graceful than I expected. Granted it was a tandem jump and I was strapped awkwardly to an instructor so there was little chance of something going wrong, but he was behind me and easy to forget about in the moment. By far the strangest part of the experience was sitting (in the instructors lap) in the door of the plane with my feet dangling out into space thinking, “There’s nothing wrong with this plane and yet I’m going to pitch myself out of it.” And so I did, and I had an adventure.
This week I stepped out of a perfectly good career. I’m going on hiatus, a mini-retirement, a sabbatical, whatever you want to call it, to stay home with my 4-year old daughter until she starts Kindergarten next fall. We are going to have an adventure.