The thing about moving is that you have to leave somewhere first.

And now that we have a date, our plane tickets booked, and empty storage bins cluttering our apartment, it's real. We're leaving San Francisco. We're not leaving because of the crazy housing prices, or because of the Google buses (but don't get me started on that). We're leaving because we can. Because we have the greatest, most amazing luxury to pick up, schlep some stuff across an ocean, and hunker down for a year or two in a city that abuts some of the world's best mountains. All while keeping our jobs and bringing our dog. Life's pretty sweet.

I know our European adventure is going to have a high level of awesome. But until I'm on that plane, my life is here. And it's a joyous, curated, happy life. One that when I take a step back, I can't believe is mine. For starters, my friends are family - which, to be clear, seems like such an understatement it borders insult. The kale is plentiful and year-round local, the IPA is strong, and rolling California hills calm me. This city is filled with bad asses who are literally changing the world, mostly for good. I love that there are enough bike commuters to cause bike traffic, and that a late self-made billionaire funds a free bluegrass festival. I love our curbside composting, and that most people know what is a worm bin when I mention it. I love that Truffle's dog walker, Reed, loves her like she's his own. I love that on the weekends, my girlfriends and I easily have too many options to choose from. I love that everywhere I look, I have memories. Old running routes, places I went with friends, sometimes solo, dates with Dave. Where my 20-something self partied, where Dave proposed, where strangers ate Courtney's birthday cake. The coffee is good, the parks are dog friendly, and on a bad day, the city still is a stunner. But of all of that, hands down the hardest thing to leave will be my people. The people who make this place my magical home.

So this next phase isn't about leaving; it's about looking ahead. Dave and I are writing our story, and to get there, we need to leave here. There's no way around it, and that makes me sad.

For weeks, Dave has encouraged me to pack (with an increasing sense of urgency) and for weeks, I've resisted. I want to be here and soak up every last minute of our life on 19th. Even though I know we'll be back, that doesn't make the leaving any easier. What will help, once we're in the air, high up over the Atlantic, is knowing that it's not about leaving San Francisco. Instead, it's about MOVING TO MUNICH!

-Sarah