This November marks 7 years of living in England. I still remember the day I left New York… I was heavily pregnant with Jonah, my entire life packed in boxes covered in masking tape and I jumped in a yellow cab to begin the journey of a lifetime. Back then, 7 years was the maximum amount of time in my mind that I was willing to give to England. I used to think that 7 years was long enough… Jonah would be 7, Lola would be 11 and hopefully we would have a new child who would be a baby (which we have) and everyone would still be young enough to adjust to the change of moving back to America and Lola would be old enough to possibly understand. Now that that time has come, a whole new realm of confusion has set in… Is it confusion or is it just fear? When I moved to England back in 2006, I felt as if I was giving up everything to the man that I was about to marry but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make for his little girl. At the time that I moved, I was in a place in my life where I finally felt WHOLE. I was living in New York City in a fabulous apartment in Chelsea, working at Credit Suisse, had a great set of friends, still fairly young and in love with the man of my dreams and excited about my first child on the way. I finally felt like I had ARRIVED. But obviously with Jason living in England and me living in New York, one of us would have to give up our life and take on a new one. Was I willing to give it all up for LOVE and a little girl that I barely knew? Something in my heart whispered to BE BRAVE so I closed my eyes and took the leap. Now here I am 7 years later with my little English son, a beautiful relationship with that little girl and a new baby in my arms all while still living here on MARS. One would think after 7 years, you would get used to a new country, a new place, a new culture and true after time you do become accustom to all of those things, but you will never really feel as though your shape fits the space you’re in perfectly. It might feel warm and comfortable in that space but there will always be a small barrier keeping you from sinking in tight. Although I love my life and everything I have gained by moving here and how much I have evolved, I think HOME will always call me back. It’s a complicated story having to choose between my own happiness and those closest to me, but sometimes you get to a point where you feel there is just no other choice. You get ruthless and think “Why do I always have to come second?” Is it selfish or is it deserved? If you’ve never moved out of your comfort place, you will never understand how your mind takes over your senses and tricks you into thinking that you”re missing things you never knew existed in your old life. Like light for instance, sometimes the way the light shines in the morning transcends me through time and back to Newport Beach where the glow of the sun never ceases. This time of year, when Autumn comes and the leaves start to change, it takes me back to the East coast and no matter how many cities I have visited in Europe, NOTHING will compare to New York City. England has its own set of beauty and shine and I’m sure there is lots of it I will never see because you can only see and feel it with English eyes. As much as I do love England, it will always be just shy of what I need most… my home. The salt and warmth in the air, the embrace of my Mothers arms, the laughter sung between my close friends who have seen me through every mistake and triumph, the smell of my Dads freshly cut grass, the bond of my Brothers love, the fast paced life of New York City, the warmth of my Grandparents home, the childhood memories of Disneyland, sand castles and Halloween that I so desperately want my own children to know. Then there are the little things, like driving on the right hand side of the road, having an automatic, not having to constantly figure out pounds vs. kilos, military time vs. standard time, Celsius vs. Fahrenheit, pounds vs. dollars, American humour vs. British sarcasm, politeness vs. honesty, ice-makers on your fridge, a dryer next to your washing machine, drinks other than tea and ale, 2 lane roads that actually fit 2 cars and the SUN…that big golden sun that I never really appreciated until I moved to Mars. So on the eve of my 7-year anniversary, here is hoping that a light will shine. A light so bright that it will guide me home… it doesn’t have to be now but when the time comes and when the time is right, I am ready to slip back into the space that fits my shape.
