The annual migration
June 7, 2007 at 12:34 It’s that time of year.
Basements, attics, and closets are being purged, boxes are being packed, and the moving vans are pulling up. Familiar faces disappear and new ones show up. It’s an annual migration; one group of expats leaves just as another arrives.
I’m always amazed how smoothly it appears to happen. People seem to come and go with little angst. Growing up, my family only moved once, when I was about 12. We went from the far flung suburbs of New York City to the rocky hills of rural Virginia. While I came to love the South and consider it home, the move itself was a dramatic change and quite a trauma at the time.
As an adult, I moved from Virginia to Oklahoma and back again. Before we came to Belgium, we had lived in one place for 15 years and had deep roots in the community. When word spread that we were leaving, many people raised a fuss.
There were multiple farewell parties hosted by my children’s school, my friends and neighbors, the Boy Scouts, our co-workers, and our church. Many people stopped by our home to wish us well, and in the last frantic days before our move, friends pitched in to keep our kids occupied while we ironed out the final details.
Even though I wanted to come to Belgium, even though I knew I would be moving back to the U.S. in a few years, I still shed plenty of tears. It was a very emotional experience for me, separating from the place I’d called home for so long. As the movers were packing up our things, I had to excuse myself from the house not once but twice. I sat in my car, which was parked across the street, and indulged in a crying jag. I took photos of the house. I memorized the way the trees looked against the bright blue March sky. I tried not to think about the people I was leaving behind.
Contrast that experience with the average American expat in our circle, most of whom are military families. Moving plans are barely noticed or acknowledged, the stress of relocating is minimized as people activate a series of procedures they’ve managed many times before, and no one organizes a series of parties to say goodbye. People leave without regret or a glance over their shoulders, and their names and accomplishments disappear from conversation almost instantly. The American expat community here is remarkably forward looking. They just plunge into the next adventure and don’t indulge in sentimental attachments or reflections. They leave people and places behind without a second thought.
A part of me really admires that mentality: the ability to be where you are and not look back, to move forward without always knowing where you’re going, to accept whatever assignment is rolled your way. Too many people become paralyzed by familiarity and uncertainty and stagnate. That’s certainly something I fight in my own thinking and temperament. I appreciate strong ties to people and places, but I don’t want to be bound and gagged by them.
Still, I know when it comes time for me to leave Belgium next year, I’ll be glancing over my shoulder at the rolling green hills, red brick houses, and cobblestone streets. I’ll be trying to memorize the pearl gray of the sky and the way the wind sounds as it bends the white birch trees around the house in the spring and fall. I will undoubtedly cry when the heavy wooden door of our brick cottage closes behind us for the last time. My goodbyes will be tinged with regret, but I'm certain I won’t be leaving all my friends behind but carrying a few friendships with me back to America.
June 7, 2007
Reader Comments (14)
Me: It's an opportunity to live in a different culture.
Her: There's a different culture in Roxbury, and that's only 15 miles away.
Me: It's a great chance to learn a new language.
Her: You can take French classes at Berlitz, right here.
Me: It's a good career opportunity.
Her: There are plenty of other good career opportunities posted on monster.com.
Me: I won't have any friends, so I'll be forced to be more outgoing.
Her: You don't have to move to Belgium. You can do that here.
Me: I'll be forced to step out of my comfort zone daily, challenged with different things every day, and learn to celebrate the small successes like figuring out how to run the washing machine.
Her: Why would you want to do that?
It wasn't easy to return to the US after my first ex-pat assignment. And even though I really, really want to go back home ... I know that this return is going to be even more difficult. My roots are much deeper here, and I too will be carrying friendships back.
My parents just did the routine: pack up, label the boxes and see what fits in the new place. They have, however, gathered a huge group of people who they were close to at different times over the years. Contact is mainly now the Christmas newsletter but should any of them ever need each other they're there in a heartbeat.
I also recognize the "military mover" - I know one personally: home is planet earth, he moves around the planet as if it were his back yard. No commitment, no visible emotions. Weird, as "regular" Belgians tend to be rather attached to the cities they grew up in.
I'm convinced that you will be carrying more than a few friendships with you back to America...
You know, blogging can make one feel like people have some strange 'bond' (although sometimes that bond is very real). Can you say hello to Di from Antwerp the next time you meet?
I'm one of those 'sentimental attachments and reflections' type of guys ;-)
I am already plotting bringing Di to America.
And you should join us for coffee some time in Antwerp. : )
Most of my adult life, except for a year in the Middle East, was spent in Spain. Moving back to the U.S. after 24 years was the hardest thing I have ever, ever had to do in my life. I cried for months afterwards, all the while throwing myself into my new life, whatever that was, trying to make sense of a life in a country I felt I no longer knew. And frankly, if it weren’t for my Mexican husband, whom I met over here, I am not sure it would be bearable even after 8 years back here. I have a bilingual life over here, and still keep in close touch with my friends from Spain. A year ago I went back to visit with my husband, and I honestly felt like I was ‘home’ when the plane landed in Barajas airport. What can I say? I did my growing up as an adult in that country. It became who I was, who I still am: a misfit who has to look for friends over here who have had similar experiences. So far, the one who knows that the best is my husband.
Cherish the last year you have there. Given your photo album habits, I know it will be well-documented.
I imagine this life of yours has brought you and your family closer together in the same way. And as Ortizzle said, your ability to scrapbook and your blog will be a bittersweet way to flashback to your life in Belgium, no?
:)