It's always a sad day at the airport when my mom or sister have to leave. We call the very familiar Geneva departure gate The Tear Zone for good reason. The moment I get near it there's no stopping the flood. Today I refused to go to The Tear Zone and instead said goodbye to mom in front of the tie store. It only helped a little bit to change the spot but at least we had the added distraction of an array of pastelled silk swatches to stare at, very pretty when blurred through tears.
I always question my choices about living here when someone I love leaves or when I have to leave them, turning my back on them at some checkpoint passport clutched in one hand. It's a hard choice. I know we could easily build a life in the states and have a productive and profitable life with lots of family close by. I know we'd have big beautiful cars, shiny over sized appliances and lots of career options. Those points hang over my head more than half the time. There is no real solid reason to why we stay in France for all the problems it causes us and all the complaining we do. It makes no sense. We stay for complicated reasons, most of them I suppose based on a firm instinct that we should be here, that we're supposed to stay here for now. And for the record I'm through questioning instinct, even when it doesn't seem right on paper. From what we've learned it's a very good guide and I will no longer be lured by the beckoning finger of logic, the case in point being our recent decision to move to Lyon for Seb's better job. It all looked good in theory but in reality it's a choice with lots of consequences.
At any rate, now that mom's gone who's glad to have her house back, more importantly her BED back? Yeah huh, that would be me. And who has let her housework go to the point where the lost pasta collection between the stove and the dishwasher now constitutes an entire meal? Um that too would be me. And who should be takin' care of business and not blogging ...
um...again me I guess.
2 comments:
My husband and I are a little bit older than you guys are, and we kind of reached the point of no return. The point, where financially, moving back to the states would be a bad idea. And then, I had a couple of years of panic set in, realizing that I would never again live in the USA, before some kind of weird acceptance, that yeah, this is where we should be and everything really will be okay.
uh wait, blogging isn't takin' care of business? You mean housework and babies are supposed to be more important than staring at my computer screen?
oops.
I go through that same thing every year--usually during the harvest when both Marc and I are stressed to the breaking point and neither of us have had enough sleep. Yes, we could do just as well if not better 'over there' but instincts tell us this is home...at least for now.
Post a Comment