Every time you move to another country you leave a little bit of your heart behind. But when you leave the country which welcomed your first child, and the nurses who so gently cared for your fragile newborn, the parks which offered him beautiful spaces to run and play, the neighbors who repeatedly let him open their letter boxes and lovingly tolerated him testing their door bells, you know that when you bid farewell to this exceptionally beautiful country you’re going to feel a big, big piece of your heart rip out. It’s highly probable that we will be leaving La belle France to move to England. I’m so upset. This country and it’s natives who let their dogs fowl the city sidewalks, who drive like maniacs, has captivated me and offered my family the most wonderful home. I am so grateful. I am so proud that my son will be, forever, a Dijonais. I do not want to leave. I feel not only my own sadness at our impending departure, but also a sadness on Matty’s behalf, and yet I do know that as long as we pack Teddy and all of his beloved stuffed animals, as long as we can find M &Ms in our new country, as long as our new city has fire engines and police cars with loud sirens and flashing lights, as long as Mummy and Papa continue to love each other and provide him with a stable family life with cuddles and kisses, that Matt will feel no pain. My sadness is my own.
Just as Matthew has an unwavering complete and blind faith in me that all will be well, I too must have faith in this journey my life is leading me on. Au revoir, Dijon. Tu va me manquer.
No comments:
Post a Comment