The night before our first real road trip in 30 years, I got an email: CANCELED. I called my husband. ‘What happened?’ He said, ‘I canceled it. My sister needs you to watch her kids.’

I had believed marriage meant building a life beside someone.

Somewhere along the way, Daniel had decided it meant I would carry his life for him.

Canceling our vacation had been his way of reminding me where he thought I belonged.

Instead, it reminded me that I could leave that place.

And this time, nobody was canceling my trip