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If it hadn't been for my incurable extroversion, I never would have ended up meeting Ron, a Jewish med student from Ohio. If it hadn't been for his convincing argument to stay and spend another day on the Adriatic and him and his med school friend Gary, I never would have had the aha moment that changed the course of my life. It began at dinner and a outdoor café on the coastline of Croatia. I was devouring my first ever plate of shrimp risotto, paired with a glass of red wine. It was transcendent. I had grown to love dining alone, ordering whatever I wanted, soaking in the moonlight and crickets. As I finished my tiramisu, I heard an unfamiliar sound: two American voices speaking English to each other. I scanned the café, and three tables to my right were two guys about my age. I was drawn to the sound. I paid my bill, grabbed my glass of wine, and walked over to them. We became fast friends, geeking out over their travel stories, and walking through the port town of Split until 1 AM. None of us wanted the night to end because I was leaving town the next morning. I told them straight out: "I'm headed south to Dubrovnik tomorrow. I have to get some sleep." Ron jumped right in, "You should stay! Come to Hvar with us tomorrow." I had been traveling on my own through Europe for a few weeks at that point, so it didn’t take much convincing for me to shelve my plans and throw caution to the wind. The water of Hvar was as clear as glass. The sea urchins were two and three feet below the surface of the water, but appeared to be right below the surface. The waves swelled and died over and over, as we laid under the hot sun and felt the Adriatic's breeze wash over us. When Ron and Gary decided to eat lunch, I couldn't pull myself away from the sea. I had no agenda, no hunger for anything other than the shore. I laid on the rocks until they returned, all smoky and chatting. After several hours in the sun, we made our way back to another ferry that would return us to Split. This ferry was different. It was two stories tall. The bottom level was enclosed and people stood around with their groups, ordering food from the small diner there. The top level with an open air deck. My friends and I climbed our way to the top. I was overwhelmed with emotion as I looked into the sunset from the deck. I had left behind a four-year relationship in America just weeks before. This trip was my exodus. It was my fresh start. While every mile further from him made me step into my own a little more, I was still left with the emptiness of a void that hadn’t yet been filled. I looked behind me at the inky black waters. Then I looked into the sunset in front of me, spilling color all around the twinkling street lamps of Split. I knew deep in my spirit that I wasn’t just leaving the past behind. I was headed toward something bright. I was on a collision course with hope. Post-script: I met my husband in Charlotte, North Carolina just 40 days after that moment on the ferry. Today is our 10-year anniversary, both of us deeply grateful for the stunning and challenging journeys that brought us to each other.