But I’ve realized that they didn’t just “get on with it.” What they did was far more intentional — and, in its own way, profound.

I know this. Yet… Safran Foer writes, “Our minds and hearts are well built to perform certain tasks, and poorly designed for others. We are good at things like calculating the path of a hurricane, and bad at things like deciding to get out of its way.” I can calculate which path the hurricane will traverse, yet I struggle with the imperative to get out of its way; unable to quieten the voice inside that whispers, “This time it may be different.”

He wrote: “It’s telling that it took psychedelics for me to experience your pain, albeit temporarily…I gave up on us.”

And there was non-stop laughter. The kind of spit-your-drink-out, fall-to-floor, pee-in-your-pants type of laughter. Mirth so intense, your body shook, your eyes squinted, tears ran down your face, and no sound came from your mouth.

There were arguments in a language you didn’t understand but had the volume and vibrations of anger, fury, fear, guilt, and despair that you did.

I made this last time the final time I packed my bags and belongings, which already have a higher carbon footprint than a seasoned pilot.