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When do you realize your own golden handcuffs? Almost a year ago we crept to the precipice of a big question. Let some dreams go and commit to some roots or let go and leap into the unknown? We let go. Comfort can be controlling. Or is it that we are addicted to the control? After months of pretense we quit our amazing jobs. We gave away most of our things. We moved away from what we called Paradise. Our cat inherited a grandmother. Those parts were sad and uncomfortable. Our families pried about our next move. Guilt swayed in and we could not answer their questions clearly. We only had the control for tomorrow and the genuineness of our hearts. We climbed to the top of a mountain in Maine and looked at each other scared to death about what the next 2187 miles of continous trail might hold. Somehow we climbed down that mountain. Our feet made miles. Our knees defeated elevation gain or, worse to us, loss. Our toes callused against wet shoes. Our ankles survived the snakes. We were not sure when the fear stopped and the exuberance started. We might actually finish this long walk. It was beginning to feel normal and even... Comfortable. We learned more about gratefulness. Cold rain and wet clothes for the night equated uncomfortable and downright depressing. A dry tent was pure luxury not to mention a sanctuary from voracious mosquitoes. We'd take any food but make it hot and we were in heaven. Then it was always good to be reminded of life's most basic requirements by prioritizing soft leaves, toilet paper, and flushing toilets in a certain order. During a drought farmers came to the rescue by leaving jugs of clean water at trail junctions. When nothing was guaranteed we became all the more grateful for every good and simple thing. All this became some sort of happy "known" and it became the new way of control. The passage of time is deceiving and in the blink of an eye a lifelong dream was completed. One day we thought we could not hike almost 2200 miles and now today it was done? Looking back we were asked a lot of questions from friendly strangers on trail. What was the hardest part? The answer was not physical. The trail dust settled off our boots and fell between the cracks of our parents' front porches. We broke the news that we were not getting real jobs yet but we that we were boarding a plane. No, we don't know when we are coming back but we know you love us. This goodbye was homesick and haunting. Is it time to commit somewhere? Are we being irresponsible? Is it time to come home? Where is home? We are human too and we are desperate to know what is next. To decide our own future is perhaps mingled with the desire to control the boundaries. Dreams are messy. We are conditioned to think that following your heart is risky and not safe. All too often, we don't reach for more because we bask in our baby pool of comfort when the open ocean is in view. The water gets warm in the pool and yet it is still hard to imagine the refreshing change of the deep and wild blue. We had already put our toes in the ocean and then we took the plunge. Next, we wanted to see the world. We were told of the risks. But the challenges we face are not because of danger or lack of kindness from new people or cultures. Early on in our global travels we yearned for the simplicity of our former trail life. Wake up, walk, sleep in the woods, repeat. It was the new golden handcuffs. Again, we did not like the change at first. Yet slowly and surely, we are learning how to swim in this ever changing environment and our hands are free. What was the hardest part? Quitting our jobs. Who had the keys to those golden handcuffs? We did. What was the best part? Unlocking our lives, letting go of control and diving into the unknown "present".