The Kissing Hand

We just bought our tickets to Geneva; the day of the move is nigh. (Well... maybe not nigh, but six weeks from now sure seems soon.) This move emotionally reminds me of when I moved to New York all those years ago. These moves are different from the others some how. When I first moved out of my parent's house at the ripe old age of 18 it wasn't a huge deal. I wanted to prove I could be independent and, well, they would only be like a half hour drive away, so it wasn't such a huge life change. Moving to Chicago was an awesome excuse to get away from the harpy of an advisor I had on Long Island. I still like to go back to visit New York, but in terms of living there at the time, I could not get away fast enough. San Francisco is more like a holding pattern. We don't really 'live' here. I have no bills that come here, no lease, nothing to even take to the DMV to get my license changed even if I wanted to. We have some friends here, so it is not too lonely, but bottom line- we are only here for 4 months.

Which brings me to the move to Geneva and why it is so like my past move to NY: my whole life is going to change. I will be leaving my country for at least a few years. I will be a resident alien in a foreign land. What brand of dish soap will I be buying? Will my tea kettle work with just a converter or do I need to use the transformer too? How on earth am I going to tell the hairdresser what sort of cut I want. It is not like 'I would like long layers' is something that routinely came up in french class that I have a good handle on. Luckily we have some friends there. Luckily my French is pretty good. Luckily I have a job interview already set up (send good vibes please). And luckily there are some expat bars and a knitting group around so that if it gets to be too much I can seek sanctuary there. But it still feels like that trip to NY. That build up. That sense of shock- a combination of excitement and fear. I have six weeks to go, lets hope it doesn't get worse. I survived the trip to NY and actually came out better for it. All will be well and my sister will still be my rock even though I am miles away.

Just to reminisce a bit though.

My sister came with me on my trip to the east coast. We drove a ton, stopped in shady hotels, saw the Statue of Liberty, and did the obligatory Target run (oh no! how will I run to Target in Geneva for those new house accessories?). Anyways. By the time we got to NY and had the house sort of set up with my clothes and air mattress, it was almost ready for her to leave. I did pretty well being calm while taking her to the airport. When I got home though, the sense of loss really hit home. The end of an era. I was alone in my apartment, alone except for a book. The book was the Kissing Hand. My parents had bought it for me and my sister had cunningly hid it in my room before she left. I was really sad to read it there all alone. In a different state. In a different time zone. With different people. With different stores. After a few weeks I got my routine set. After a few months I had a good friend set. After a while I really had fun. So with this chapter that is about to begin, I just have to remember that it will take some time, but new adventures are always scary, but many are well worth it in the end.