I think that's called grief

Our visa was granted. We are back from Christmas. The next step is clear. It is time to book flights.

Throughout this process, Booking Flights has become a strange place marker in the journey. A clear objective goal for us to work towards, but also a reassurance that we aren't that close to leaving yet. Without flights booked, we have sidestepped the anxieties and feelings that come with a concrete timeline. Both of us have been safely operating in a vague time scale of 'Mid-feb to mid-March', avoiding any kind of measure of exactly how long we have before we go. There have been no countdowns. Until now.

When Justin gets stressed, he gets louder than normal, and likes to tease me more, When I get stressed, I lose my sense of humour. It's not exactly a winning combination, but we make it work. Normally, we politely take turns having little freak outs, allowing the other to act as a bastion of sanity until the freak out is over. Not so much this time. Since we got back from Toronto, it feels like someone turned the intensity up to 11. We have both been low-key freaking out about what comes next. Even though we know what needs to be done, we are having a hard time facing it. Finally the anxiety of not having flights booked overpowered the fear of booking flights. After much stalling, feet dragging, and exclamations of 'okay, 10 more minutes and then we are going to do this', we finally sat down and booked our flights.

The only thing more stressful than booking travel is booking really expensive travel. Luckily we have a decent amount of practice. And a lot of credit.

Flights are booked for Feb 18th, arriving the 20th (I already know the 2 day difference there is going to be confusing). One month accommodation booked in a quiet outer suburb of Melbourne.

As soon as the flight was booked, Air Canada helpfully let me know that there were only 50 days until we leave. 50 days. Less than that now. 50 days to pack up our life, tie up loose ends, say our goodbyes. You know how you can't look directly at the sun because it's so bright? That's what that 50 days feels like. So bright it hurts.

After we finished our bookings, we took a break. Lying on our bed, I asked Justin how he was doing. He wasn't sure. Neither was I. I asked if he was sad. He said 'No, not sad. Something weirder.' I responded 'I think that's called grief.'