I recently celebrated my high school best friend’s 30th birthday. With her, in person. I woke up in the guest room of her Long Island home, and ate breakfast sandwiches on her sofa while her 4-month-old twins napped. I physically handed her a birthday card, and I alternated between flailing helplessly with screaming babies and cooing happily over smiley babies. I was there.

In the months and years to come, I won’t be there. I won’t be there for Thanksgiving, or Easter lunch, or random Saturdays just because I want best friend and babies time. I’m going to miss the days when my niece and nephew start to crawl, and show their first tooth.

I’m going to miss a lot. Not just with my best friend’s family. With my own family. With a lot of people I care deeply about.

But I’ve never understood that trendy phrase, “FOMO.” Fear of missing out. My whole life has been a series of “missing out.” By the time I turned 6, I was living in my fourth state. I missed whole childhoods with best friends from different states. My sister was only 6 when I graduated high school, so what happened? I missed her childhood. I went away to college. I pursued a career I loved in various states, and dreamed big dreams that took me to different countries. And if I’ve taught my sister one thing, I pray that I’ve taught her to never hold back.

I missed my sister’s first date, but I took her on her first trip abroad when she was 16. I’ve missed a lot of my mom’s birthdays, but one of my favorite memories will always be waking her up in the middle of the night with both my brothers, after two of us had driven from Kentucky to surprise her for her birthday. Leaving my friends in Kentucky led to meeting my friends in England, and leaving them led to my friends in DC, and leaving them led to my friends in New York. Leaving England the first time, I thought I was missing out most of all. But it turned out that I just needed four years to figure out how to build a life in England the right way, with the right people.

Even when I miss things, somehow life keeps getting better. So I guess that’s why I’m maintaining a freaky calm, despite being 12 hours away from driving to the airport to permanently move away from the country of my birth. A partnership and a parenthood that is better than anything I ever dreamed of is waiting for me, even after I thought my life choices meant I would miss out on love and family. Sometimes we just don’t think creatively enough.

So, I’m gonna miss things. When I miss the birth of your child, or the start of your new job, or an epic camping weekend, I am truly sorry. I know I would have loved to be there. But I’m going to love being an immigrant, a grad student, a parent. I’ll hike other mountains. And I bet I’ll see you. We’ll meet in an exciting new place and have an incredible adventure together. Fortunately, life is defined by relationships, not single events, and across continents I will continue to build the intricate tapestry of relationships that hold my soul together.

There is so much ahead. To those I will be missing, I’ll catch you on the next adventure. Look for a postcard in the meantime.