I’m a Gypsy. No, I’m not.
On the way home from the airport back in June, I may have given Kevin heart palpitations.
Me: Soooo, where do you think we should move next?
Kevin: Um… here?*
Me: No, I mean in 5 years or so. Where would you like to live?
Kevin: Uh… here?
Me: Come on, babe. After we’ve lived here for awhile, don’t you think it would be cool to move abroad again? Maybe to Italy or Spain next?
Kevin: I don’t even… Can we just get settled here and talk about this later? As in, after we get over jet lag? In 5 years or so?
A few weeks later:
Me: I have a great idea! Let’s move to Costa Rica!
Kevin: What? Why?*
Me: Because the kids could learn Spanish! I could brush up! We could explore rain forests and live on the beach and just… absorb the tropical culture!
Kevin: Do you think we could unpack some boxes before we talk about this?
Me: [Harrumph.] Fine. But in Costa Rica, all we need are bathing suits and rain ponchos!
If you’re wondering whether I’ve been a) bitten by the travel bug, b) become completely overwhelmed by unpacking boxes, or c) gone a tad bit insane, the answer is d) all of the above. I’ve always loved the idea of living abroad, and I’ve accomplished it 3 times thus far: Korea (obviously), Spain, and Mexico. And yes, I am already planning our next adventure, much to the chagrin of our friends and family. Isn’t everyone?
Enter The Game Changer: Last week we said goodbye to these beautiful faces as they flew back to Korea.
For at least 10 months. 10 looooooong months until we see them again. That’s a pretty long time between baby kisses and hugs, especially since we saw each other practically daily for nearly 2 years. It’s even more difficult to stomach, because we won’t be living near them at any time in the foreseeable future. At least when we left California 2 years ago, we knew we would move back at some point. Not so with Korea.
Our niece (and goddaughter) Gemma loves Kev and I more than we deserve. She may even love us more than my own children do. I’ve never really had the opportunity to become close to other people’s children because I’m so busy taking care of my own. So it’s a precious feeling, being loved unconditionally and with complete abandon by a child who’s not my own, but who certainly feels like she belongs to me.
My point? Saying goodbye to her (and her mom and dad and sister) gave me pause. I wouldn’t give up those 2 years together to avoid the heartbreak I feel now. But I don’t know if I’m gypsy enough to risk another wound like this for the sake of adventure.
*My memory is a little sketchy on the exact words we exchanged (thank you, 11 hour flight and 17 hour time difference), but the essence of both conversations are correct.