One of my expat friends recently moved back to the U.S. to an area she has never lived in before.
When we spoke recently she shared how hard it is to develop friendships with people in the area.
When she is out walking and greets her neighbors, they look at her like she is from another planet.
When she meets people at her children’s schools and they learn that she was recently living overseas the conversation ends quickly.
A short time ago, I wrote about some of the major adjustments of our recent move to become first-time expats in a big sandbox and shared that the hardest time for me after any move consistently occurs four and six months after each move. (I’m in that zone now.)
Three weeks ago we were blessed with a two-week vacation to see the people we love, and to do some traveling. Now everyone is asking if it is even harder to go back to the sandbox.
Yes – I’m tired. I think that’s from the traveling and the heat and humidity we returned to.
No – I did not miss my “cloak of invisibility” – I did not dig it out once the entire time we were gone.
Yes – I still miss blue skies and puffy clouds. (I took this photo of puffy clouds on the plane.)
No – I didn’t think I missed driving that much, until I saw my car. When I saw it I literally had to go sit in it, and open the sunroof and imagine I was cruising down the road on day filled with bright sunshine and cool breezes. (Unfortunately, driving it will have to wait until the next visit with the hopes that there will be more time re-tag it and get it out of storage.)
However, many of my friends said that after a summer away from this place, returning was harder than usual. (…And not being able to load their children in a car and take off go wherever and whenever they want to, is one of the reasons for their struggle.)
Yesterday as I sat at the grocery store waiting an hour for my bus, not being able to drive hit home at a higher level:
My Grandfather was a WWII Battle of the Bulge Veteran and although his nature was to accept whatever life handed him and to move on, the memories of the brokenness and devastation that the war created left a shadow of questions that haunted him.
For years he did his best to cope, while raising a large family and tending to a farm. When his youngest grandchildren started asking about the war he found some healing by sharing stories with family and fellow veterans, but the questions themselves remained.
In 2004, 60 years after the battle he accompanied a number of veterans back to those battlefields. Considering the devastation of the homes, the cities and the lives that were directly impacted by the battles, grandpa was not sure what kind of a welcome they would receive. Much to his surprise, everywhere they went they were treated as heroes!
