On Wednesday, Luke left for Norway. We got some updated family photos before he left by the amazing Lisa from L.M Broderick Photography. Even now, writing those words feels surreal. For years, Norway was our dream. It was something we talked about endlessly, planned for, researched and imagined. It was the adventure we hoped for but never quite believed would actually happen. In many ways, I think we assumed it would remain just that, a dream. Something we would talk about on

One of the questions I've been asked most often lately is whether I'm sad about selling our house. It's a fair question. After all, we've lived here for almost nine years. This is the house where we raised our boys, celebrated birthdays and Christmases, and created countless memories as a family. It's also the house where I cared for Mum during her final months. If walls could talk, these ones would certainly have a story to tell. So people are often surprised when I tell

Natey and I have something in common. We both like certainty. We like plans. We like answers. We like knowing what comes next (In reality, I think most of us like these things). Natey and I (Europe 2022) Unfortunately, life doesn't always cooperate. Especially when you're preparing to move your family to the other side of the world. Over the last few months, I've noticed that as Norway becomes more real, so do the emotions that come with it. The excitement is still there.

It's funny how quickly life can change. When I wrote my last post (two months ago!), we had just found out that Luke got the job. After so much waiting, everything suddenly felt possible. What I don't think I fully appreciated at the time was that the waiting wasn't actually over. It had just changed shape. Instead of waiting to hear whether Norway was happening, we found ourselves waiting for visas. Waiting for paperwork. Waiting for approvals. Waiting for timelines.

The dream has come true. A move to Norway is now real, and the timing feels like a quiet blessing from my Mum on her birthday. Between joy and overwhelm, we are learning what it means to step out of waiting and into change.

Our family is currently living in the in-between. Luke has applied for a job in Norway, and while the decision slowly unfolds, life here feels strangely paused. So many everyday decisions depend on an answer we don’t yet have. On the outside everything carries on as normal, but beneath it sits that familiar human - challenge waiting for clarity when the future is still uncertain.

Ever since our first trip to Norway, I have been learning Norwegian with the quiet hope that one day I might actually need to use it. When we returned in 2025, I had already been studying the language for more than a year. Despite this, I still felt far from capable of speaking it. My contribution to conversations rarely extended beyond a cautious “takk” or a polite “ha det.” While Norwegians speak exceptional English, it was very clear that understanding the language and c

A holiday with our closest friends in the European winter of 2022–23 is where our Norwegian dream first began. We boarded the plane in T-shirts and shorts, leaving behind a Queensland summer, and stepped off 22 hours later into snow and stillness, immediately reaching for coats and gloves. Driving through Lapland (Finland) Our white Christmas began in Finland. Helsinki greeted us with more snow than usual that year. As we descended towards the runway, the view from the airc

With any new adventure, the best place to begin is with a smile, a hello, and a few introductions. My name is Alicia, and this year I celebrate my 40th lap around the sun. I’ve been married to Luke (42) for almost 18 years, and together we have two wonderful boys, Ethan (16) and Nate (10). We currently live in Queensland, Australia, a place known for its long, hot summers and endless sunshine. Luke and I were both born and raised here, yet despite that, we have never quite sh