I didn’t really know what I was doing.

But on a quiet weekday morning, I walked into the Indigo at Yonge and Bloor — no appointment, no plan, just a hopeful heart and a copy of my book in hand. I had Googled how book signings worked and came up with... not much. So I figured: why not ask?

I spoke to the General Manager and shared our story — a family who packed up and took a sabbatical around the world, not to escape life but to walk more fully into it. I told her about the lessons we learned, the cultures we connected with, the gift of time together, and the book I wrote to capture it all.

I can’t remember the last time I cried. My wife is the emotional one. When she’s completely absorbed in a sentimental book or stumbles upon a tear-jerking Hallmark commercial, and the tears start flowing, the girls and I know the drill—pass her the Kleenex, shake our heads, and walk away—otherwise, we’ll only make it worse.

In my childhood, though, I cried a lot, sometimes apparently no good reason. Over time I guess you learn to suppress it or handle your emotions in different ways. Stoicism became the default. But lately? Lately, the emotions have been harder to keep at bay.

I still wrestle with how much of the real world I should expose my kids to and how much of it they’ll figure out on their own. It’s one of those eternal parenting dilemmas—like deciding when they’re old enough to watch a PG-13 movie, or whether “letting them figure it out” builds resilience or just a talent for selective hearing.

Given everything happening in the world today, our dinner table has become a hub of spirited discussion—not just about how their day went, but about the ever-unfolding state of the world.

As I lace up my shoes for my pre-dawn walk, something I do every morning before the world wakes up, today's familiar route feels special. Maybe it's the birthday reflections or just the way these milestone moments make us slow down and appreciate life's wild turns.

I think they serve as natural checkpoints, inviting us to look back at the path we've travelled and forward to the road not yet taken. And what a path this year has been!

There's something peculiar about watching a dream become reality – especially when it's one you can actually touch, hold, and share with others.

Today marks a milestone I never quite imagined writing about. Not because I didn't believe it possible, but because becoming an author wasn't the destination I set out to reach. It was something that emerged organically from a deeper journey – one that began with learning the power of the pause.

The holiday season gifted us with precious family moments - from immersing ourselves in cultural activities to attending sporting events. Our evening Monopoly game revealed a side of my daughters I hadn't fully appreciated before; watching them strategize, negotiate, and scheme like budding entrepreneurs reminded me how children often mirror back the very qualities we don't always see in ourselves.

Life has a peculiar way of unfolding – not in the neat, predictable patterns we envision, but in surprising twists and turns that somehow lead us exactly where we need to be. I had never envisioned my life would turn out this way. Then again, who does?

It has almost been three months since we returned home from our epic journey around the world. When we returned home to Toronto, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would we feel adrift? Struggle to settle back into familiar routines? Experience the dreaded "post-trip blues"?

To my surprise—and relief—it wasn’t quite so dramatic. Perhaps it was the glorious fall weather easing our transition or the warmth of our community that welcomed us back with open arms (and not a hint of “Wait, who are you again?”).

After seven long years, we finally returned to London, and this time, our trip was nothing short of an adventure. The last time we visited, the girls were so young that they managed to sleep through the entire hop-on/hop-off bus tour, missing all the iconic sights London had to offer. Determined not to let history repeat itself, we made up for it in the most ambitious way possible: by walking 15 kilometers with friends—on the hottest day of the year, no less! We strolled past the majestic Crown Jewels, marveled at Big Ben’s grandeur, and took in the beauty of Tower Bridge, soaking up London’s rich history along the way. The city, alive with energy and culture, didn’t miss a beat in captivating us once again.

When I think back to earlier this year, when we announced our plan to travel around the world with our kids for over half a year, the number one question people asked after their initial shock was, “Why Albania?” The list of countries I rattled off made sense to most people, but Albania always seemed to give them pause. They’d get this confused, quizzical look on their faces and ask, “Wait, what—Albania? Isn’t something going on there now? Where exactly is it in Asia? Isn’t that a communist country that was under Russian rule? Or was it one of those breakaway Balkan republics that fell apart after the war in Yugoslavia? Isn’t it dangerous? They always seem to come up as dangerous people in Guy Ritchie movies.”

It only took a stroll down one street in Amman, the capital of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, for the girls to fall head over heels for the city. One wrong turn, and we landed on an avenue dedicated entirely to animals, especially birds. There were more birds than people, and the girls were thrilled. I’ve never had such a long chat with a parrot before. The sheer cacophony on the street was deafening – hence my long conversation with the parrot. On “Bird St.,” there were fifteen different bird stores lined up, all vying for attention. I thought, “If we didn’t buy a parrot at the first store, why would we want a macaw from your neighbor?” I have to say it - but the place had clearly gone to the birds.

My parents introduced me to travel at a young age. I learned to walk in Trinidad & Tobago while visiting my uncle—a professor at the University of the West Indies. This wanderlust spread to my two siblings. Once we finished school, we each moved to different parts of the globe. This makes family reunions a logistical nightmare, especially over the last several years.

Although I’ve been excited about this global trek, the prospect of a family reunion had me giddy. Seeing my mom, dad, two sisters, and my own family together under one roof was a dream come true. And where better to gather than our ancestral land, Ghana?

Our flight from the Kruger Game Reserve was marked by a slight delay as a family of warthogs decided to wander onto the runway just before we took off for Port Elizabeth (PE). I’ve been delayed by many things in my life, but never by warthogs. Who knew that getting airborne would involve having a strategic negotiation with Timon and Pumbaa for runway rights?

Leaving Thailand was an adventure in itself. Our island tour was literally hijacked by a cheeky monkey, who boarded our boat, boldly stole our snacks, and drank our water while we helplessly watched. I’m still upset about this. Then there was our "family-friendly" Muay Thai session that was neither family-oriented nor friendly, leaving us both exhilarated and exhausted. And let’s not forget the best Thai massage ever—courtesy of a masseuse who, along with her colleagues, were convicts. Her criminal history remains a mystery to me to this day. The stories from Thailand could fill a book… but those are tales for another day. For now, we had new destinations awaiting us, starting with Johannesburg via Abu Dhabi, promising fresh experiences and new adventures.

The last time I set out on an extended period of travel was in 2010 when Charles and I backpacked through Southeast Asia for three months. This was pre-cellphones, when Expedia had minimal listings. Usually our first priority of business when landing in a new destination, besides finding the local beach bar, was locating the nearest internet cafe to provide proof of life to those back home. If you were really lucky, you might even sneak in a quick Skype call and upload photos from your digital camera before your minutes ran out on the internet.

We have been spoiled with a countless number of delights on this trip. Honestly, every day feels like Christmas - which will undoubtedly cause problems when we return to whatever normalcy will look like, however, that’s a problem for another day. One of my personal highlights so far has been playing detective and observing the world through my girls' eyes. Who or what grabs their attention? What burning questions do they unleash upon the universe? And, most importantly, what culinary delights send them into a frenzy?

I remember a former manager of mine who was like a broken record during our annual performance review season, preaching that "feedback is a gift." I have always thought about feedback as a bit like broccoli - you know it’s good for you but sometimes you'd rather avoid it altogether.

Fall is in full swing on the southern island of New Zealand, painting the landscape in a magnificent palette of autumn hues. The leaves have turned a beautiful array of yellow, orange, red, and purple. For the first time during our trip, we have had to put on long-sleeved shirts and windbreakers to stay warm.

At what age did you start your first job? Well, if you’re prowling the streets of the idyllic island of Waiheke (pronounced Wah-he-key), labor laws seem to take a backseat. Here, we stumbled upon a wee lad, barely seven or maybe eight, charming the socks off young ladies with his magic tricks.

Our journey into the heart of the Great Barrier Reef left us feeling like honorary members of the underwater world. As we bid farewell to the Land Down Under, I couldn't help but reflect on the whirlwind of Aussie slang, the mesmerizing colours of the reef, and the unexpected adventures that awaited us in every corner of this vast and sun-kissed country.