August 10, 2003, 3 a.m., Amsterdam. Today, 22 years ago. A bar sticky with last songs and almost-mornings.That’s where I met a Finnish guy named Mikael—Micke, Micky—and had no idea I’d just stepped into the adventure of my life. Since then: three kids, one angel watching over us, an awesome bonus daughter, years off-grid on

The world has opinions about your life—how you should think, feel, choose.The next step isn’t the hard part.The hard part is muting the noise long enough to hear your own voice—and trusting it. For me, it came down to three words. Not concepts. Compass points.They brought me back to myself. Maybe they’ll bring you back

What if celebration, achievement, and that knot-in-your-stomach travel together?Spoiler: they do. They did all summer. Portugal put on her best: hot but kind, evenings like velvet, even Sintra behaving—no moody wind, just light that lingered. What made it gold All my kids under one roof.Long dinners that got honest somewhere between the olives and the