A plan

I'm a planner. I always have been. As a child, I used to scribble lists of books to read, tasks to achieve, money to put away to buy more precious books. At school, I loved charting class timetables and planning study schedules in the lead up to exams. I spreadsheet everything; even the contents of packing and moving boxes.

I love the feeling of knowing exactly how I'm going to get somewhere, and enjoy knowing that each step along the way is getting me closer. I spend my work days planning out projects for other people.

But a life plan? I don't have one of those, and, actually, I'm not entirely sure why.

I have vague ideas about where I want us to be in 5 years and 10 years. Happy. Doing things we enjoy instead of doing things because they pay the bills. Somewhere with space. Somewhere exciting. Kids roaming outside. Art on the walls, loads of old chairs. Sitting in the garden under a canopy of lights and fragrant flowers. Friends and family to stay. Simplicity.

This fanciful imagining would never cut it at work. There's nothing specific here. No defined objectives. No clear timeframe. No critical path. No clear journey from where we are now to this beautiful place in my mind. No idea how to get there.

So, we'll talk some more. Dream some more. Open our minds and turn off the fear button for a moment to see if it brings us any clarity.

There's always a way.

This year, we'll find ours.