Joe and I have been home a few days from our epic American tour. The purpose of our trip was to make a hypothetical conversation that we'd had before we were even a couple, reality.
When we were still getting to know each other, we'd talked about U2. They've been my favourite all-time band since girlhood - I caught the love of them from my big brother James. I had seen U2 twice in concert in New Zealand, but Joe had never seen them, so we had an hilarious and (I thought) hypothetical conversation about how we should go and see them one day.
At this stage, we hadn't even met each other in person, we were just old friends reconnecting after an 18 year gap in our university-days friendship.
We said, "Hey! We should go together sometime to see U2." "You'll love them!" I said.
The conversation carried on to discuss where we would go. I assumed Auckland. Joe thought a little bigger. Rome? Paris I chimed in. London? We settled on New York.
Time went on - we met in person. Became a couple. Started planning a life together.
Then for Christmas - you could have knocked me down with a feather. Via Skype, Joe directed me to an envelope hidden behind a picture of us. Inside were two tickets to U2 at Madison Square Garden for July 22nd 2015.
It seems I have a habit of forming relationships with people on the internet before I meet them in person. Occupational hazard I guess, and one of the absolute highlights (among many highlights) of this trip was staying with my 'photography friend Wendy' who I met in an online class six years ago.
Wendy and I have walked all of our 365 projects together, she has been an invaluable friend and creative support to me throughout these last six years. I have heard her cheering loudly from the opposite shores of the Pacific.
Going to see Wendy was high on my list of things to do in the US, and we planned our trip to stop off in California on the way to New York.
Through photographs, I've watched Wendy's daughter blossom in her pregnancy and her grandson Gunner enter the world. I've joined in the annual pilgrimage to get her Christmas tree, shed a tear on the anniversary of her husband Michael's passing. I've met her sons, and Wendy has watched Conor - and I - grow.
This morning in New Zealand, I spread some of Wendy's home made apricot jam on my sourdough toast, and marvelled at how miraculous it is I've now seen many of Wendy's photographs through my own eyes. This is what I call a tiny miracle.
I'm about to burst into blog posts covering our trip, and I can't wait to share them with you all!