Yesterday it was 730 days since I came over to the UK. 24 months, 2 years. In a way it feels like it's been 4 years.
I didn't think I'd be here this long, a year at most. Then things changed. For the better. But it's missing friends and family back home that sometimes makes me think about moving back. Missing them is like a constant pain in my heart. Sometimes I don't feel it, and then there are times when I miss them so much it feels like my heart will break. But I think about them pretty much every day.
And it kind of pulls me down when I think that that's how it will be, if not forever, then for a very long time
ahead. But... I don't feel that I have anything to move back to, apart from shorten the distance to my loved
ones. But they're also spread out in 3 different towns. And very busy living their lives, so I don't think I would
actually get any closer, only physically, but would I see them that much more often?
It's just that... sometimes I wish I could get in a car and drive to lillebror, Shobben, Ida, Julle, Emma, dad, Shila when that overwhelming feeling of missing them washes over me. Sooth the itch. Ease the pain with a pain killer called meet-up.
Simone said I would move back when I had a man and kids. I can see that. It seems very likely. She also said, I/we would move back to the UK after a few years.
So my 703rd day was a mix of everything, wishes of moving back, wishes of continuing to settle down here. I wish I could have the best of both worlds. The grass to be just as green on one side as the other.
But that's not life. And I'm going to stop right now, before the big philosopher completely takes over and starts thinking about those BIG questions and everything gets a little bit too jazzy.
I'm on my 731st day and it feels good to be here. Just need to do a spring clean of my winter tired soul. Chase the dust bunnies from the corners. Open the windows. Pull the blinds up. Maybe some new paint.
