My lovely daughter Christine has written a little story, a story of her expat life. She wrote it today on her blog tine. and I love it (as I do all her posts). We share the gift of gab, laugh at our own jokes and have a similar point of view on life. I wonder where she gets it from? ;)
I have lived in five countries in my short twenty-two years of life:
United States of America.
Home-sick reaches an all new level when your family is spread across four different countries. My trips home can cost more than a semester at University (New Zealand). I don't have many childhood friends and I don't have a bedroom covered in 90's pop-star posters. My belongings are compiled in a plastic container, stored under a bed that has been placed in seven different bedrooms. I have attended four different schools and have multiple international sim cards. My best friends are my family and our family dog has seen more travel than some people will in a life time. I have two passports and have the customs routine down pat - walk fast and learn the art of 'weaving'.
'Is that an accent I detect?'
No, it is just something I like to put on to make myself appear to be more interesting.
Put my brothers and sister in the same room and your mind will be boggled with the voices that surround you. We each live in different countries, two of us born in another from the others. Most of us are happy to expose our duality in citizenship, yet some of us decide to affiliate ourselves with just the one. It is funny how important your passport actually becomes. Without it you would be stuck - who would want that? I don't think I have spent more than six weeks in more than one place in the last year. It can get tiring, that is for sure. There is a point where you want it to stop, but you are afraid of the kind of levels of crazy you will become once you settle down.
|A well travelled pup.|
Family time usually just comes once - Christmas. Twice in a year is a treat. Under one roof is a miracle, even if it is only for a short period of time. Where to meet is the question. Where is home? Don't bother asking. You know the saying, 'home is where the heart is'? The true essence of that phrase only applies to those who move around a lot. Those who can look at pages like this and laugh at how much you can relate. You come to realize how small the world actually is, and how important things like Facebook actually are. You develop a preference of airlines and know an airline bargain when you see one. The value of your air points membership far surpasses your bank account (at my age that is). Majority of your friends will never spend the night, let alone meet the rest of the clan - for that would be one expensive meet and greet.
As for mom/mum..
My heart is spread wide and far...
from the effervescent Christine in New Zealand
to my adorable Claire, in the USA.
Last week we had a 'boys' reunion in Australia.
Patrick, my eldest son, is with the Australian Army, stationed in Darwin.
He showed us around and left Connor (my youngest) walking on cloud nine.
I think the photo below says it all.
Big brother is now the BEST BROTHER in the whole wide world!
Come January 2014 we have a few more moves.
Christine will move to Sydney to take up a new job,
Connor will also move to Sydney to move into boarding school life.
Patrick will take up a new assignment in Melbourne
and Claire will carry on with college in the USA
As for Mom and Dad...
Chateau Mango in Vietnam will be our home base,
with a whole lot of love and air miles spread
between Australia and America.
So where is home?
Jeanne writes...mother, wife, expat...tarzan, jane
Christine writes...ConGRADulations 101
and we all get this...