We leave for Italy in 10 days. I am cramming in everything I can, but the reality is I am running out of time.
Saturday, Andrew and I flew back from a family visit in Michigan. Due to a 2-hour tarmac delay and thunderstorms in Denver and a nearly-empty gas tank, we were diverted to Scottsbluff, Nebraska for refueling. We eventually got home at 1:30 am Pacific time, some 15 hours after we headed to the airport in Grand Rapids. So that was quite a day.
On Sunday, I purged my system, because on Monday, I squeezed in a colonoscopy that was originally supposed to happen in 2020 (I think you know what happened there), and then was supposed to happen in August 2022—the week that I ended up being in Poland for my mother-in-law’s funeral.
Yesterday I spent a couple hours with my To Do list, which had over 100 things on it, and completely overhauled it so that anything that doesn't ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO BE DONE BEFORE THE MOVE got shuffled to a new “Guess I’ll deal with this once we get to Italy” category. That got the list down to about 25 things. Progress!
Going back many months, I had great intentions of writing a lot about the whole experience of preparing to move to another country. (One idea: how unbelievably challenging and expensive it is to ship a dog overseas.) But this is about as much as I can muster at this point.
The other day I texted some friends who moved abroad last year, who I knew could understand what we’re feeling:
Welp. It officially all feels insane now, like we’ve pretty much lost the plot, amid the cancer and death and Russian war and energy crisis and neo-fascist new government and pet shipping insanity and missing car titles and difficult goodbyes. The reasons we chose—so very long ago—to do this feel long out of sight and mind. When people (understandably) ask if we are 'SO EXCITED?!?', I think I often return a rather blank stare. It all seems fairly crazy right now. Why ARE we doing this? How DID I think that going back to school and trying to switch careers in a foreign country seemed reasonable? There’s really been no time to even think of the whys of late, only the who/what/when/where/hows.
My six-year-old nephew, who got his middle name from me, does not want us to move to Milan, but to Michigan. During our visit last week, he asked his mom at bedtime to please try to convince us to at least think about it. He’s afraid he’ll see us even less once we move. He may be right, though I hope not. I try to tell myself that a 10-hour flight from Europe isn’t that different than a 5-hour flight from California. And maybe it’s not. But still, it about broke my heart.
I am confident that at some point down the road, it’ll all be worth it. We have reasons—many well-thought-out reasons—for making this move. But it doesn’t mean that it comes at no cost. There’s a price to pay, like there is for everything in life. There’s always a trade-off. Sometimes many.
Sending love to so many of you who I’d hoped to see again before we leave. We’ll have to look forward to a future visit, here or there!
This part sucks, it's true. And the next part might suck a bit, too. But it won't last forever. And I promise it's worth it. Love you. Sending virtual hugs because I don't have any clones I can send to help with that monster to-do list. Can't wait to see you in Milan. Or Portugal. Or both!