The last few months have been tough. The three of us have been juggling an array of emotions as we prepare our journey back home. The liberty of a leisure Sunday stroll into town has now been swapped with packing.  We are slowly finding new homes for the items we have accumulated the last three years.  Moving here had its own struggles, leaving is proving to be the same but for different reasons.

I am learning to take in the moments of happiness, even amid grief. I find myself in a peculiar situation in which I am joyfully immersed in our quaint English life, but it is stained with the knowledge it will soon be only memories. What was supposed to be a two-year jaunt to be able to travel more easily has evolved to a period in our lives that has changed how we see what is important in our everyday life.

Winchester Cathedral

The day I found myself embedded in English society was about two years after our arrival. I was sitting in Winchester Cathedral not visiting but attending the graduation of a good friend, an adoptive daughter of a sort, along with her parents. I realized then, that I was no longer viewing the culture from the outside but living within it. One of the keynote speakers shared the history of the huge west window. The vibrant stain glass window that welcomes you as you walk up to the cathedral. It lacks the traditional biblical scenes from the period and instead has a mosaic pattern that glows brightly on a sunny day.

In the 1600s during the English Civil War Winchester was the capital of England. The Cathedral represented King Charles I, and he believed he ruled by divine right, giving him the authority to raise taxes as he wished. Parliament protested and in 1642 they destroyed the majority of the cathedral including throwing rocks through the primary west glassed window. After the soldiers left the townspeople came around and picked up as much of the glass as they could and stored it in boxes under their beds in hope that when things improved the windows could be rebuilt.

A lifetime later in 1658 the Winchester community brought out their boxes of glass to see if they could put the West Window’s biblical scene back together. It proved an impossible task. Instead, they gathered all the bits of broken glass and made a mosaic, resulting in what exists now, a glorious window.

Community

For me the window represents the endurance of the community, and with it came together a beautiful window. The sense of community is something we have witnessed whilst living here, especially during the pandemic. Being part of this community has been a gift. We first felt it when we joined our street (the Honeysuckle’s) WhatsApp group. A group of people that make you welcome signs when you have been gone for more than a week or that bring in our rubbish (garbage) bins without a request.  And then we saw another layer of community when we became assistance leaders of Alvin’s cub pack, the Scouting community.  And of course, my work family, hard-working diligent carers from near and far. Now, when we walk into town, we always run into someone from our community. This only after three years of living here.

And now we find ourselves saying goodbye to this English community. I have never embraced a placed like I have England. Maybe that is why it is hard to leave. Always a nomad at heart, I’ve always felt most comfortable on the move yet here, within these communities, I found a home.

Life in England

As you walked into our home you could tell our life here was temporary, a mismatch of free furniture. We thought two years living overseas was going to be enough but when the two-year anniversary arrived, it felt like a blink. Therefore, we decided to let Alvin finish primary school here adding another two years to our original plan. But the universe had other plans.

Last Christmas we celebrated with friends who happen to be another expat family. Both of us without family around we joined together. But it highlighted our physical separation from our loved ones. The only comfort was knowing the following Christmas would be our last in England. It was going to be the start of many lasts, last Guy Fawkes celebration, last Hat Festival, last neighbourhood street party.

Spring

However, as spring arrived family was calling. First it was minor incidents, a bike accident with one of the older boys and personal frustration not being home to help heal his wounds. My mother and stepfather requiring additional medical needs and not being close enough to talk to the doctors in real time.

And then this April, the unexpected passing of my brother-in-law, one of the most gentle, kind souls I have known. He was young in my eyes, only a few years older than Gary. He had a heart attack, very unexpectedly, and was taken too soon from our family. Grief overtook us. The reality he would not have any more lasts. He had an appointment scheduled the week after he died to get his passport renewed. So he could visit us. His time with us over. That stark reality made us realize that our love for England is outweighed by our love for our family. We want our lasts to be around family.

We are still grieving; it comes in waves. Grief for my brother-in-law. Gary’s last surviving brother. Grief for leaving a country we have fallen in love with. We now will not have our planned lasts like we had imagined. But it is a reminder to cherish every moment, you never know when it will be your last.

Preparing to Leave

We have two weeks left in England and are cherishing the moments. Our bucket list of places to see was cut short but not due to time, but because we have enjoyed being home. Being in Winchester, taking long walks on the South Downs Way. Or day trips to obscure pubs. We are sneaking in weekend trips to the Jurassic Coast. But it is also the small treasures, the sunrise peeking in through the bathroom window. The difficulty distinguishing my chirping alarm from the birds outside. Our weekend walks along the clear water of the Itchen River. Or the pink sunsets on Whiteshute ridge.

A temporary move has left a permanent imprint. I did not know life could feel so safe and secure. No gun violence, no lockdown drills or fears as I go on jogs at 9pm. Giving Alvin the liberty to walk to the park on his own without concern. Even knowing that Gary’s medications are all covered on the NHS. I will not only miss the beauty of England but also the security it has provided. Minor stresses that have been relieved, I only hope to carry that calmness back to the US.

Lessons Learned/Learnt

I have learnt not only about a different health care system (a dedicated post coming soon) but also life as a foreigner. I have learnt to not ask “where are you from” but “tell me about your accent.” People often ask us where we are from. We understand what they want to know, but we are currently from Winchester. We now can empathize with the pain of arriving to a country with a solid job but still no credit history.  And hence not being able to get a cell phone contract or a credit card.

I am also keenly aware of the privilege that comes with being an American citizen. My peers of international nurses cannot pick up and travel the manner our family has done. They must apply and wait to get a Schengen Visa which allows them to visit the European Union. Even UK citizens must apply for a visa to come to the USA, which requires sending in your passport. Yet here we are exploring as much of EU as time and money will allow without a worry whether we are allowed in the country. The liberty associated with being an American citizen is one I do not ever take for granted.

Saying Goodbye

We are leaving our beloved second home. We are exchanging walks in the moors for sitting at the edge of the Pudget Sound, taking in the saltwater breeze. Or afternoons in the pub with friends, for neighbours who whistle as they walk through our front door. We leave behind weekend trips to Malta but soon enough will have spontaneous family dinners, and the liberty to return when our hearts desire.

When we arrived the world was shattered, the peak of the pandemic. But as I looked up at the west window of the cathedral last fall, I realized no matter how shattered things seem, like the window, it can be put back together. We feel shattered as well but are healing with the little treasures England has taught us. The value of a good long walk. The therapeutic power of a cuppa (cup of tea). The value of living with less in a smaller house. The slower calmer way of life. We are taking all these little bits back home.  Even as we say goodbye, with sadness, we are being put back together by community. The community of neighbours, of nurses, of Scouts, of expats all which have changed us. Thank you, England.

We have fallen into the middle. The part of life that is routine, basic and possibly boring. The things which make up childhoods, things we do not deem important but are at the core of who we become.

Alvin

Alvin’s routine consists of waking us up by climbing into our bed followed in by Jasper. He wakes up running and only cuddles but a moment. He has always been eager to get the day started. For the last five weeks we have homeschooling again. School days consist of on line lessons, writing, reading, and then in the afternoon we head to the park or for a long walk. Today we changed things and during lunch hour we walked with the neighbors into town to pick up library books.

I wake up slower. Pulling open the drapes attempting predict the weather by looks of the clouds or lack of. Ironically I am no longer am an avid tea drinker. I now start the day off with instant coffee, a much better selection than back home. You have already been introduced to my days. I start those off before sunrise riding my bike into work and they end riding back hours after sunset. On my off days I linger around the house resembling a sloth. I help Alvin with his school work, I write, and attempt to help Gary with the house chores. I am trying to embrace the lockdown; the lack of commitments, swim lessons or volunteering, but I often find myself making lists just so I have something to cross off: laundry, dishes, get dressed. The simple act of crossing something off adds some sort of purpose to the humdrum time we are in.

Gary’s Retirement

Gary has been keeping himself busy restoring our backyard. He put in a new fence and made planters out of the salvageable parts of the old fence, a true renaissance man. Gary and the owner of our rental house are off to a good start. She bought the material for the new fence after Gary did the research. The previous one was falling over, and Gary graciously did all the labor. If I attempt to add tasks or activities to his day, like the local Spanish lessons at the community center (pre lockdown) he is quick to remind me that this is his retirement. My renaissance man has also kept himself busy since our arrival by putting in new shelves in the kitchen and becoming friends with the neighbor who helped us arrange the installation of our gas range. We attempted to live with an electric range but after a month we decided it was a luxury we did not mind investing in.

The progression of the Backyard

Even though the pandemic and most recent lockdown has made it difficult to get to know our town past a one or two mile radius, it has allowed us to really know every walking path within the two miles. I see it as getting to know the water we swim in. And there is still much we do not know.

Saturdays have become a treasure

Saturdays are our highlight; we walked into town to buy food for the week. As we start weekly journey we must choose to walk along the Itchen River or along the street, both have their treasure. Either way we are lead to the exterior aisle of Winchester Cathedral, placing us in the middle of High Street, the center of town. We purchase our meat from the local butcher and fruits/vegetables from the farmer. Sometimes we go to Poundland (UK equivalent of the dollar store) and stock up on sweets (aka candy). We do need to keep an eye on the weight, not ours, but the bags we must carry back home.  

City Treasures versus River Walks

The evening revolve around eating sweets, playing the piano, watching Alvin play with his Legos as we listen to Gary read or an audiobook. Simple times we have now but it is the core of his childhood.

Tell me about your routine, the mundane things of your life, your core?

Last Saturday, just as we finished dinner and started on a game of Bananagrams we heard the “thump, thump, thump” of someone at the door. I was in the living room away from the front door setting up our beloved game and I asked Gary who was there.

Cheerfully he responded “the neighbors!” “Which ones?” I ask. “All of them” he sputtered. It turns out a gaggle of neighbors were at the door, they had come to guide us to the ridge for the Guy Fawkes Night celebration. A firework show was being put on by the city since due to the pandemic the traditional bonfire was not possible. The group waited as we masked up. They handed Alvin a light sabre sort of glow stick, he was in heaven. I felt like the first kid picked at the schoolyard. The fireworks illuminated the city. An appropriate celebration for us since earlier in the evening we had learned about Biden and Harris’s victory.

The neighborhood…

Our neighborhood is chatty and filled with playmates for Alvin. In the morning in unison we all walk to the neighborhood school. Alvin’s second grade curriculum (here referred to as year three) consists of cursive writing, fractions, multiplications, and Roman history. The students at public schools wear uniforms. An even playing field in my head; even if it is only a figment of my imagination, I’ll take it. We no longer have to figure out what to wear in the morning rush.

We walk, forced to be active keeping our health and spirits in good terms. Ten minutes to Sainsbury (think Fred Myer) or thirty minutes into town. The walks are lined with homes that remind me I am in a country that was bustling and industrializing when the United States was figuring out its independence. I reflect on the meaning of time as I pause and take in.

The weather is crisp, the foot paths are layered with golden leaves. Our small home with a cupboard under the stairs includes a simpler way of life. No dishwasher, television (for now) or excess furniture in part because of a lack of a vehicle. It allows us to focus on the details previously covered with things. We laugh at words like pipping hot or heat on the hob listed on the back of food labels. We read, play games, still dance and take family walks. Two weeks out of isolation and I still feel as though I am in a dream.

Goal Accomplished….

So now what? I have reached my goal.  Do I create a new goal? Do I rest and take a breath? Taking in the accomplishment that took years in the making, but for how long is acceptable? During isolation we occupied ourselves by unpacking, settling, and distracted with Alvin’s school work. Alvin now in school and with the days free I sit taking it all in. We are in England. I reached my goal.

The peace and joy that comes with this accomplishment are like a foreigner in my house. We see each other but we speak a different language. I could distract them with a drink or creating unnecessary tasks, but I am glad they here. In the past they have only visited, never stayed. Intrigued by these visitors my anxiety comes out to greet them. I recall reading once that happiness is like an organism. If you think about it too much you lose it. My anxiety takes the lead reminding me to not focus on the bliss.  I am trying to sit with them but they are such strangers. I feel like an introduction at an AA meeting “I have a problem I do not know how to live with joy or peace.”

Brené Browns’s says, as a society we have a hard time accepting joy. It makes us vulnerable. I gently ask my anxiety to sit in the corner while I try to get comfortable with peace and joy. I voice my gratitude the neighbors, the vast open fields, the walking paths, time to write and read, a small minimalist home. All there to make them feel welcomed.

Things have changed.

We do not have the spectacular views of the Narrows Bridge at sunset, cocktail hour with neighbors or family stopping by for a quick visit. We do have children running down the street, big meadows for long walks and old buildings to remind us of the scarcity of time. And the space to learn to live with peace and joy.