One month ago we picked up and left Los Angeles, a place we’d called home for over 10 years, and moved across the world to Hong Kong where my husband has been working away from us for the past year. We’d been doing a long distance thing for far too long, so the idea of having us all together was always the light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how much we wanted to stay in L.A. or how much we’d miss our families in the U.S., and no matter how we really felt about our new surroundings in the end.
The whole process was fairly hasty. From the moment we decided to make the move to touchdown in Hong Kong, it all happened within the space of three months. People learning about our move would always say, “Wow-so you’re just picking up and leaving?”
No. Picking up and leaving sounds like we picked up a tidily packed suitcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other, with a smile on our faces and with neatly pressed clothes, and jumped onto the plane with a Colbie Caillat song playing merrily in the background as we waved goodbye from the window seat. Not so much.
Read the rest at mom.me.