Moving continents -encore

 The old house in a beach city, in LA. 

The old house in a beach city, in LA. 

« Toto, I've a feeling we’re not in  Kansas anymore. » On the day of my last post, I learned that there was a chance we were moving to Ireland, and started packing. I made dozens of  tiny boxes for the tiny stuff. I shredded old papers with a manual shredder to use as packing material. 

We moved end of June. That was fast! We said our goodbyes to friends that were as dear as family. We took a last long look at the Pacific. We danced  a happy dance, too, saying bye-bye to the awful politics, the stupid love for guns, the rampant racism, the judgemental ways... I was worried about middle school. I was worried about extreme weather. I was worried about a lot of things linked to our life in LA, and it was gone, it was going. We were moving to a country that cared about people, with a nice climate, we were moving to a place where people love life and a good joke, where education is free and where a health system isn’t a dream. 

I packed fast. I packed 15 years into small boxes. And what I couldn’t pack the movers did, ruining half of our stuff, like a cautionary tale.  Don’t come back!

I will miss the long evenings at our friends’ place, listening to new music and old. I will miss our special non religious Christmases with other dear friends. I will miss the vacations in the woods, the trips to SF, the fabulous museums. A part of me became American in those 15 years there. This part still loves a lot of things about my beautiful, big country. But I was happy to go. I had my story here, and closed the book. 

We moved. It’s like jumping really, hoping for the best. 

 

 Dublin when we arrived

Dublin when we arrived

Delphine Doreau