A year ago today we were two months into our trip. Still in Canada with the whole world and practically the whole year ahead of us. We arrived back in Yellowknife on July 24, 2014. The only time we were delayed overnight on the entire trip was on this side of the Mackenzie River. The NWT experienced one of the worst forrest fire seasons in recorded history this year and, sure enough, after crossing the Deh Cho Bridge we saw the "Road Closed" signs just outside the turnoff into Fort Providence. Oh well. The weather was nice. Why not spend a final night sleeping in the tent next to one of the world's most majestic rivers? Better to arrive home rested after a three hour drive than wiped following a full day on the road.

Throughout our travels I paid close attention to the passage of time. No matter where we were, I never felt like it was flying past. That changed when we reached the turnoff to Yellowknife on Highway 1. The previous summer we left a message in a bottle at this intersection before heading north to Yukon and Alaska. We decided that the "round the world journey" would be complete when we reached this same intersection the following summer on our way home. We thought about that plastic water bottle burried beneath the rocks and snow by the road sign near our home many times during our trip. Sometimes it made us feel happy. Other times homesick. It was a little unreal when we parked the car and walked across the highway to the signpost under which it lay hidden. I'd forgotten what we'd written but it was a simple message. "I hope this was fun. Was it?" We all looked at each other a little hesitantly, then piped up. "Ohh yeah!" "Now, let's get home!" For the first time in eleven and a half months we were covering ground that we'd already covered.

My perception of time has changed completely since we arrived home. It really does seem like a blur now. When we opened that message in a bottle I made a point of looking the kids directly in the eye. "There you go girls. That's one year. You only get a certain number of those. Make them count. Make them last. Don't wish any of them away." I've made a point of not looking at pictures or re-reading journal entries to let it all settle in my mind. I haven't had the motivation to write since getting back and even this final entry is a bit of a chore. Maybe deep in my subconscience I think that the adventure is not really over until I put the final period at the end of the final sentence of the final entry of this journal. Today is the day I guess.

This trip was truly a once in a lifetime experience. It was not a holiday. It wasn't always fun or interesting. It has not given me a burning desire to keep on traveling. I am happy to be home and, yes, even back at work. I did miss the simple joys of routine, the familiar sights and faces of the place I live. We spent far more money than we had saved for the trip and will be paying for it for years to come. But would I do it all over again? No question I would. But what stands out to me are not the amazing things we saw or did. What stands out are the quiet, routine, sometimes mundane times we spent together as a family with no other timeline or external pressures to guide us other than those we made up ourselves. Playing cards on a train to somewhere, a movie night in the camper in New Zealand, barbequing outside a bungalow in South Africa or watching the kids meet and do normal kids stuff with other kids from other cultures - but who are just kids despite all the things that make them different. Honestly, we could have gone just about anywhere in the world and had the same experiences. We may never get a chance to spend time like this with them again. As we watched them run down the road with their friends when we arrived home, we looked at each other, a little lost. "There they go," we said. There they go.