We arrive at my friend's house and they put their baby to bed. We talk and ruminate. They are nice people. You always liked Gremily. Gentle and real people.
"Hey guess what. We have decided to quit out jobs and go travelling for 6 months in March" you say. You are sitting on the floor, just below me, holding on to my leg. You look at me to check that I agree, hopeful and happy. I am afraid that you have attached to this plan some remnant of hope for survival. I want to hedge this bet but it seems too late. It is firmly imprinted in your hopes and dreams. You are burnt out. You are not concerned about what we will come back to. You were on the edge of not coming back at all at one point so this whole 6 months and come back thing seems really sensible to you.
But can we just leave our careers like that? "Aaaaauuuuuhhh, people like you and I will always find jobs. On your death bed, I bet you won't lie there going 'why did I leave a principal position in a large american firm?' you will be thinking 'I'm so glad for all the times I chose to live and be'. and whoever you are with you will still be glad you took that time out with that Aussie bird to see a bit of the world"
I have said yes but I am not sure. I don't want you to lock it in psychologically. I think I am too late.
