Use Your Accent

How are you feeling? It’s been the question of the hour for several weeks (months?) now. Sometimes I feel fine. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Sometimes I feel like a good cry. Sometimes I feel on cloud nine. That’s normal, right?!

What’s interesting is that this question has always been posed within my British circle of friends. With the Americans, it’s more transactional. How’s everything going? ‘Everything’ being the power-word that encapsulates ALL the cogs in the cross-continental relocation process. It’s about logistics. It’s about what is happening on which day?, and how was the crew?, and what that person happens to know (or has heard from a friend of a friend of a friend) about the location I’m heading to. It’s a different vibe. It’s a ‘you’ve done this before, you’re doing it again, you just gotta get through this one, and I’m in the same boat as you’ vibe. It’s not wrong, it’s just different.

With my British friends, it’s always been about how we feel. How the kids feel. I have loved this about them. They genuinely care if we are okay. It’s not a question just to fill time in the school pick-up line. Because who really cares about the logistics? Those will…or will not…get done. The feelings are the hard part. The part you can’t solve with a phone call, or a bulleted to-do list, or a few hours of elbow grease.

There are also the questions that all non-vagabond families inevitably ask: How do you do it? It gets easier every time, right?

No, it doesn’t get easier every time. In fact, I think it gets harder. I left Vacaville with relative ease – my baby in my arms, my dog at my feet, and my husband leading the way. We left Pickering voluntarily, but it still felt sad. I asked myself why I was volunteering to leaving such an amazing cul-de-sac community. Would I ever find this again? Leaving Noral was harder than that. The house that I loved, where I brought home another baby, that I poured so much of my time and energy and money into making exactly how I wanted it. It was another amazing cul-de-sac community. Yes, I did find it again and it was even better. Despite the reluctance to leave what we loved, we departed with optimism and excitement for the adventure to come. And now, leaving England has certainly been the hardest one yet. The most tears, the longest hugs, the deepest uncertainty about when we would see the people we cared about again.

So. The remainder of this, I write to my children. Three creatures that did not choose this lifestyle. An open letter about how we ‘do’ this. If my vision becomes reality, they will read this blog repeatedly, for years to come. I hope they value it as a vault that holds little secrets to who they were, what they did, and how I treasured it all. Kind of like a baby book!

To my children,
Don’t shy away from hard goodbyes, my loves. Hard goodbyes mean that you have done incredible things. It means you have invested yourself, emotionally, in the people around you. It means you’ve thrown yourself at every opportunity possible. It means you have been willing to open up and let other people experience who you are. And this, dear ones, is the most valuable way to live a full life.

I want you three to know that hard goodbyes are a blessing and a gift, bestowed upon you by the universe. Give everything you have, including your heart, even if it might hurt. Do it every single time. And remember, you were gifted these hard goodbyes because you survived the hard goodbyes that came before this. You can do hard things. It’s what makes you strong and special.

And luckily, you were all born into an era of connectivity. People are not far away, no matter where they are. You just have to reach out and bring them closer. You are adventurers. The world is yours to behold. Go out and find those hard goodbyes and turn them into hello again’s!

I love you three so much. You got this.