After 111 days away we are coming home. Temporarily. And so tomorrow night we will be sleeping in our own beds, driving down our street, seeing our dogs, celebrating a holiday in our home. And the emotion is pure question mark.
It feels weird to say we’ve been away for four months, when it feels like four minutes. The time has sped up with the impending shift back to Eastern Time. The calendar filled quickly and the mix of re-integrating plus the rush to complete year-end projects, resolutions and corporate duties has pushed time ahead.
You can see it in the children as they begin to act out, worrying about things that didn’t worry them before and at the first sign of conflict (play-date scheduling overlap, friends who are leaving town as we arrive) there are harrumphs of “I want to stay” or the growl of “I want to go back home.”
There are people to see and friends to embrace, but there is a balance.
Do they really want to hear about the Christmas Hampers and Canary Wharf, Prince Edward and Paris, my commute and Copenhagen, Eurostar and Espresso, politeness and politics, Camden and Swiss Cottage? Do they care about St. Pauls and St. John’s Wood, museums and movies, cabs and cars, buses and Brussels, Thanksgiving and Theatre, integration and immigration, pounds and dollars, working and walking, holidays and health scares, distance and getting lost in Dulwich, Facebook and friends, Rugby and relationships, schools and shuls, tubes and trains, of writing and whining of Pubs and Pantomines?
Do they really want to hear about the Christmas Hampers and Canary Wharf, Prince Edward and Paris, my commute and Copenhagen, Eurostar and Espresso, politeness and politics, Camden and Swiss Cottage? Do they care about St. Pauls and St. John’s Wood, museums and movies, cabs and cars, buses and Brussels, Thanksgiving and Theatre, integration and immigration, pounds and dollars, working and walking, holidays and health scares, distance and getting lost in Dulwich, Facebook and friends, Rugby and relationships, schools and shuls, tubes and trains, of writing and whining of Pubs and Pantomines?
I realize that sometimes reading a blog is like watching a friends’ home movies or those “great” vacation pictures.
One of the many worries before moving here was that London would lose its magic. That once I knew the street names, the tube stops, the landmarks that it would become a jumble of people and places no different from home. But it only grew in my mind and now holds a special place for the five of us. I’m resistant to saying the experiences have been life changing, but engaging, eye-opening, exciting, intimidating and oh so rewarding.
As one friend said, “You’ve turned back the clock” in that we once again have time with our children. Time that we lost when they grew up and away. And we know now more than ever that it’s fleeting, but the chance to grasp at it one more time is time travel.
Can’t wait until January.
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