PROLOGUE

I met my partner in a shared Lyft to Newark Airport in September 2019. Total strangers, heading to Texas. I lived in Austin. She was there to study. From that moment on, it was a shared ride. We fell in love. We were inseparable until her visa expired during the pandemic. She returned to Australia, and I would follow.

I sold everything. I imagined a farewell with far too many two-dollar beers at Yellow Jacket, a loud and messy show at Cheer Up Charlies, and a late-night trip for beet fries at Victory. But the world was on lockdown. Instead, I left quietly in the night, alone, in a rented Suburban with a few boxes of clothes, instruments, and my go-to microphone to spend a few weeks with family in Florida before a long flight to Oz.

But when I arrived home, Australia had closed its border. My flight? Cancelled. Months went by. A year. So many failed attempts. My father suggested I sneak on a container ship … I did not find that amusing.

There I was, a year later, living in my childhood bedroom pining for the girl. I’m too old to be angsty. Therapy and recording the songs I only got to play live once before lockdown helped. My childhood bedroom became my studio bedroom and I had become the “how it started vs how it’s going” meme.

One year and nine months later… there I was, back in Austin eating at my favourite breakfast spot. My phone was dead from the night before, when a server told me there was a call at the register. It was my partner … I was heading to Australia.