I don’t have an obligation to my youth. Take a minute, if you must. Breathe that in. I don’t have an obligation to my youth.

I find this idea to be perpetually controversial to what society tells me. Society tells us that youth is the time for experience. That the twenties are going to be the highlight of your life, so live it up while you can. Then, when you must, get married and buy a house and find a neighborhood that’s safe for those stupid little kids you’re bound to have. But, until this inevitable monotony ensues, travel, date a lot, party a lot, figure out who you are, and look the best you can because your body will only go downhill from here. No pressure.

I am in my senior year of college. In fact, I’m about to be in my last semester of my senior year of college. For months now I’ve been trying to decide what to do once I walk across that stage. I’m lucky to have gotten married in college (yes, I said it) because I get to enter into this next stage with my closest confidant and friend. But it’s still intimidating. I’ve spent four years on a journalism degree I already have no interest in using. My husband and I tend to be more location-driven than job-driven anyway. So where? What? How? It’s overwhelming.

First we had the idea to travel for a year. We thought we should sell everything, buy an RV, and hit every state. I thought about how cool the pictures would be. A few months later, though, we realized that we would have no community for an entire year. We wouldn’t see our family for a year. We would have no consistent church for a year. It wasn’t going to work.

Then we thought about moving out of the state. I always said, as a child, that I hated Florida and would get out as soon as possible. I planned to go to an out of state college, but fell in love with Flagler. But now, now we would leave. We would get out. People would see I escaped. I did it.

I was having another “What am I going to do with my life?” crisis the other day and I realized every idea my husband and I had came out of an obligation to youth. We used the phrase, “this is the only time in our life to do this” a lot. We said, “I don’t want to regret not doing it,” a lot. We also said “But I want to be close to family, especially when we have kids,” a lot.

I don’t know where we will be a year from now. I don’t know where we will be five months from now, but when we got married there was no obligation to youth. We fought that pressure and it was the best decision we’ve ever made. So why give in now? Why travel all at once? Why is now the only time to leave Florida? Why does my twenties have to be full of disassociation from family and community in order to be a well-spent decade? Why do my twenties hold so much hope? Maybe my forties will be better. My mother frequently speaks of the freedom that came with turning 50.