Four Years

I would like to have grown these poppies, but sadly, I didn't.

I would like to have grown these poppies, but sadly, I didn’t.

It’s hard to believe, but we moved here four years ago—as of last Monday, August 3rd (when we were enjoying a family holiday on the island of Crete—more on that another time). I feel the need to mark the milestone here, but I’m not really sure what to say. It’s been a tough year—and I know, I say that a lot, but it has. Nothing about moving here has been easy; this move has kicked our backsides in ways we just weren’t prepared for—and hindsight is 20/20, as they say. This year has seen some major milestones: the (finally) selling of our house in Ohio (though I’d move back into it in a heartbeat) and my British citizenship coming through. We’re thinking about buying a house here next year, and though we want a home of our own again, I honestly don’t want to move house ever again. The mere thought of it is exhausting, so if anyone wants to find us the perfect house, pack up all of our things, move them, and then unpack for us, feel free.

So things are going to change again in the coming year with another house move and (cross your fingers) me entering into a serious job search. It’s time. I’ve come to accept that I am probably never going to feel truly “at home” here—home will always be somewhere else, but that’s part of the price you pay for an international marriage. Someone is always homesick.

Life is a journey, as they say, and what a journey it is. Thank you, dear readers, for being part of mine.

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