Never Enough Time
It's been nine months, and while the thrill of living in a new country still lingers, there's a shift in the air. As we cruise around town, taking in everything that has become so familiar, a wave of sadness washes over me. In just four months, I'll no longer be able to step out of our building and breathe in the salty air of the Cotes des Basques, or take leisurely strolls to the Halles, or hop on my bike and pedal my way to Anglet, or spend all of my time with Gabe. The thought of bidding farewell to this place tugs at my heartstrings. And as the days pass, school has become increasingly challenging for the boys, each hurdle in their education feeling like a mountain to climb. Although it is not easy, they are doing great and making incredible progress. For me, navigating French continues to present daily hurdles. While I'm excited to head back to California, where English is the language and everyday errands like chatting at the bank or pumping gas at the gas station will be a piece of cake, there's a twinge of sadness creeping in as I contemplate bidding adieu to the challenge of finding the right words and the occasional bliss of feeling utterly clueless. Strangely enough, even though the idea of heading back home is synonymous with returning to HOME, it's also become somewhat overwhelming. Just thinking about all the logistics involved—completing all the paperwork for the carte vitale and my visa, selling the car and bikes, packing up all the things we've accumulated, arranging for luggage to be sent back with Luggage Forward, and saying farewell to our friends here —-by July 15—feels like a mountain. And of course, there's returning to Carmel and picking up the threads we left behind, which feels like diving headfirst into a whirlwind of responsibilities. It's a bittersweet realization, this impending departure. Yet, amidst the longing for familiarity, there's a sense of gratitude for the growth and experiences we've gained here. And then there's the urgency to squeeze in every last adventure, every last memory, before our time here comes to an end. What once felt like an abundance of time now feels like grains slipping through an hourglass too quickly. Each trip, each excursion, carries with it a sense of urgency, a desire to capture and savor every moment before this chapter of our lives is over.
Yes, living in France is incredible, but not without its challenges. There's this realization of how tough we are, and maybe that's what this whole adventure is about. It's not just about ticking off places on our travel bucket list. It's about the journey within ourselves, the growth that happens when we're pushed out of our comfort zones. We're evolving, learning, and becoming better versions of ourselves. Our dinner conversations usually include something Luke or Charlie is excited about or something new they've learned. I hear the boys confidently chat in French and my heart swells with pride. They're not just adapting to this new life but flourishing in it. And that, to me, is the most rewarding part of this whole adventure.
Luke and Charlie are tackling school head-on and actually understanding what's going on in class! They're thriving, taking on challenges that even some adults would find daunting. It's like they've developed this resilience that's beyond their years. Luke earned a "felicitations" on his second quarter report! He's always busy making plans with his friends and showing such responsibility and independence. Our only concern is reminding him to make wise choices and steer clear of kids who are always causing trouble, even if they're entertaining. Charlie is making incredible progress, and now that he really understands the language, his teacher is expecting way more from him. But with that pressure comes overwhelming feelings. He seems to be struggling more than usual, finding it tough to adapt. I can sense that he's feeling a bit lost, unsure of how to be himself or questioning, “How do I be me?” But even in these moments of difficulty, I can't help but feel hopeful. Because deep down, I know that this experience will change his life for the better. So, as hard as it is to watch him face these challenges, I'm filled with a sense of optimism. Because I know that once he pushes through this rough patch, he'll emerge on the other side knowing that he can tackle whatever life throws his way. And that, to me, is one of the most valuable lessons he could ever learn.
Well, we have four months left to savor every moment, with exciting adventures on the horizon. A trip to Italy, a weekend in London, another in Rome, another in Paris to see the Todd family, visitors in June, and to cap it all off, two weeks in Greece. Luke will set sail around the Greek islands with Emile and Bruno, while Gabe, Charlie, and I explore Athens and beyond. Hopefully, we'll have the chance to visit with our friends here in Europe one more time before we leave. And really, we just have to come back because there's still so much left to do, even though we've already done so much. There’s never enough time to do it all, but wow, what a time we're having.
