Tomorrow will be exactly one month before I board a plane back to France. I have now lived in Philadelphia for 8 years and have been calling this city my home for a while. And here I am, starting everything all over again.
There are so many emotions linked to a move abroad. Whether it’s a move away or a move back, or both (in my case).
8 years ago, I was moving away. I was leaving behind me the comfort of a familiar city, a close family and a faithful group of friends. I remember taking the subway, about a week before I left, and running into someone I knew. It became clear to me, at that moment, that it was time to go. I was craving the idea of being incognito and being able to reinvent myself; become the person I knew (thought?) I was. The person that wasn’t tied to family expectations, friends assumptions due to our common history, or even general reputation.
The week after I arrived in Philly was the week two major TV series season finales were released. In Friends, Rachel accepts a job in Paris and then changes her mind when Ross declares his love to her. And I thought: “What if I missed my opportunity for that one-true-love?” And I cried. In Sex & the City, Carrie moves to Paris to follow Aleksandr and then becomes home sick and misses her friends. And I thought: “What if I lose my friends?” And I cried.
It only took a few more weeks for me to realize that:
1. I was already making some great new friends (2 of them I met within the first 48 hours I had moved here)
2. There was plenty of male eye candy in Philadelphia and I had a lot to learn and experiment about the American culture of dating.
8 years later, I’m back. But this time, I don’t feel like I’m leaving anything behind. All the great things that I have found here, I’m taking with me: my experiences, my memories, my freedom. Friends, I have all over the world at this point. And I’m lucky to live in the 21st century where Internet keeps people connected and where everyone only lives a plane-ride away. As for my one-true-love… Who knows? Maybe he was there, all that time, just waiting.
Had you asked me a few month ago how I felt about the possibility of moving back to France, the answer would not have been pretty. Behind the tears was a terrorizing fear of the unknown. But, somehow, I don’t feel fear anymore. I feel excitement about the unknown. I’m not sad about the days left behind, I’m looking forward to the days to come.
I want to close that chapter of my life, with words from my favorite poem: If by Rudyard Kipling
…
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
…
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;
…
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
…
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Lately I have been exposed to all sorts of spiritual and soul healing experiences. A path it took me a while to take but that I’m slowly managing to fit in my life. First came Yoga, then The Artist Way and, more recently, my first experience of meditation. I like the new horizons all those things open in my life and in my heart and I feel the need to materialize them all into a mantra. A way to always remember how good those changes were and to find my way back on that path.
