The move

Here I am, 45 years old, standing in my Winnipeg apartment, surrounded by boxes, wondering how my life turned into this wild, beautiful leap. A year ago, I was just another woman on a dating app, scrolling through endless profiles, half-expecting another letdown. Then I saw him—Étienne. A Frenchman from Lyon, now in Quebec, with this devastating smile that hit me like a lightning bolt. Dark eyes, a laugh that felt like sunshine, and a way of talking that made me feel like I was the only person in his world. I was hooked from the first message.

We started chatting, and it was like finding a song you didn’t know you loved. He’d send me voice notes in that rolling French accent, telling me about his life in this tiny Quebec village of 400 people—Saint-Éloi, a place I had to Google. He’d describe the quiet mornings, the river nearby, the way the stars looked without city lights drowning them out. We’d talk for hours about everything—my job at the hospital, his work as a carpenter, our favorite old movies. After a month, we had our first video call, and seeing that smile in real time? I was a goner.

Three months in, we met in person. I flew to Quebec, nervous as a teenager, and there he was at the airport, taller than I expected, with flowers and that grin that made my knees weak. Those few days were magic—walking hand-in-hand through his village, sipping coffee in a little bakery, feeling like I’d stepped into someone else’s love story. But when I got back to Winnipeg, the distance hit hard. The late-night calls weren’t enough. I missed him like a piece of me was 2,000 miles away.

Now, here I am, packing up my life to move to Saint-Éloi. A village of 400 people. No traffic lights, no malls, just a handful of houses and a community that knows everyone’s name. It’s insane, right? Leaving my cozy city life, my friends, my routine, for a man I’ve known for months. But when I think of Étienne—his warmth, the way he looks at me like I’m home, the life we could build together—I know it’s not just about him. It’s about me choosing something bigger, something that scares me and thrills me all at once. At 45, I thought I’d played it safe forever. But this? This feels like the bravest thing I’ve ever done. So, I’m going. To a tiny village, to love, to a new chapter I never saw coming.