“How do you feel right now?” Is what Rob asked me as I lay there, crossing #20 off my List.

“Alive” I said. And I meant it.

We traveled six hours to Montreal on the weekend to get tattoos. A 29-year old and a 31-year old felt like two teenagers getting up at the crack of dawn, just one bag between them, the dusty clothes on their back (still renovating this new-old house of ours…) and nothing more than a the anticipation of finally doing something they’d been thinking about for so long.

So, we drove.

Up until the last moment before the buzzing needle was about to hit my skin, I toyed with the location of it, the color, the size (I’m a last-minute gal, what can I say). I was determined not to over think this, so I had to overcome some of my usual tendencies to be indecisive and over analytical. I had even written a Love Note to my body telling it this was going down. Remember that?

In the end, I now have a blooming magnolia on my upper ribs. Rob has a splashing, koi fish on his back, making its way upstream. Each one has its reasons for being there – a story for another day.

It hasn’t been lost on me that my husband has been indulging in a few ‘firsts’ of his own alongside me this year, as I check things off List (um, he was naked on that beach, too. True story.) Call it supporting me, dabbling in new experiences or merely just convenient timing, it also hasn’t been lost on me that I’m lucky to have someone to share these things with.

Every time I cross something off my List, I fall in love with my life a little more. Up until recently (and I haven’t shared this often on the blog) it had been a long time since I felt like that – since I felt love for my life. But then, sometime earlier this year, after a winter I wasn’t sure I’d get through, I reminded myself that I’m not living this life alone. I’m sharing it with Rob, with my sister, my mother, my friends… with you, dear readers of this little ‘ol blog. So, I decided:

If I’m going to share my life – its moments, its experiences, its details – then I’d better love it. There is no point in sharing something you don’t love.

(and no, this is not a self-help(y) post. simply my experience of feeling less than happy for a period time and then deciding I was ready to bloom..again).

I realize that happiness is fleeting, but the pursuit of happiness is not. It is constant, undying, circular and bumpy chase. It is hard and rewarding and tragic and necessary. It is what drives our decisions – even if it means driving six hours with one bag and dusty clothes. The pursuit is what sketches our maps as we navigate through our days and our years, growing older and hopefully a little wiser.

Yes, the pursuit is the longest and greatest journey we’ll ever take, with no one true destination, but with many stops along the way – in those stops lie the experiences that make us love the lives we build.

…for us, one of those stops happened to be at Tattoo Mania in Montreal.

Rob’s childhood friend, Simon, who is one of the country’s foremost and well known tattooers, was our guide on this particular tour de la experience (what?).

(oh ya, this is Simon’s blog here. a must read.)

I was honored to have my first tattoo done by Simon, mostly because it was special for Rob – it was a way to share this from a unique perspective.

For years Rob had said that he wanted Simon to be the one – it had to be Simon. Was it for nostalgia? Trust? Loyalty to an old friend? Maybe all of those things are what brought us all that way there, to that little shop in Montreal. I don’t really know. But I do know that someday all of those things might just bring us back.

After a while, as the tattooers say, you’ll forget that your tattoo even exists. It will heal and then just be there, looking back at you when you look at it or when someone brings it to your attention. Other than that, they say you likely won’t give it much thought. And they’re probably right. But even after the constant thought of the tattoo itself is long gone, buried by time, you’ll never forget the experience of getting it. I know I won’t.

For me, this little purple and pink flower will be a constant reminder of the moment, after months of wanting to give up, I felt very much… alive.

(PS, yes, it hurts. But it’ll be around forever, so I figure it’s worth it.)