They’re following in our footsteps.
With visas acquired for Pyoor (her wife happens to be American too) and their house sold, they have spend the past few weeks packing up their belongings. They’ve sold far more than we did for our move though, partly because they don’t have kids and partly because they are bringing a very special cargo with them to the U.S. inside their shipping container.
Rebecca, Pyoor’s Morris Minor, a car I’ve know as long as I’ve known Pyoor. And indeed a car which resulted in the other name we give her “RaKate,” after the noises I made while riding in her Morris Minor for the very first time.
Of course, I’ve known for the nearly as long as we’ve been planning our move that they will be following us to the Pacific Northwest. But seeing the photographs of Rebecca getting her steam clean and then being loaded into the shipping container somehow brings home the fact that yes, our dear friends are soon going to be just 200 miles away from us, not four thousand.
That, in my book is worth celebrating.
Naturally, I’m laughing at their optimism about getting the stuff delivered in double-quick time on this side. I chuckle at how long they think it’ll take for the ship to arrive. But I know that we’ll soon get to see our friends again and that, for me at least, this place will feel a little more like home.
I know I speak for the whole family too. We really have missed them.
Watching the drama of their packing process unfold has also made me feel a little homesick for other things too, like the photographs of our dear friend John helping get Rebecca’s headlining installed in preparation for her trip. For the past eight years, we lived just a short distance apart on opposite sides of the same village. I miss popping over for a coffee and seeing what wonderful things he’s been tinkering with, and I hope now that he has two sets of friends over here, he’ll come over some day soon for a visit.
Luckily, my parents managed to teach me that life is for living. That we move forwards not backwards, and that change is part of life. These past few months have brought some pretty big changes to our lives, but in the long run, I think it will have been the right move.
So I’m going to allow myself a little homesickness. Not in a depressive or sad way, but in a fond, loving, and grateful way. I’m 36. In that time, I’ve lived in a variety of wonderful places. I’ve met some amazing people. And yes, I’ve had three successful careers.
I am pretty freaking lucky, even if I don’t feel it sometimes.
Life is pretty darned good. And if I get to see my friends and their wonderful Morris Minor once in a while, it’ll be even better.