Or rather, mid-move ramblings. We've done the hellish bit - the boxing and the cleaning and the goodbyes - and now we're staying with family in the UK for a bit of a breather before we head to Sweden on the 11th. I feel like I've arrived from another dimension, and that's not just because it's about 20° C cooler here. My mind is foggy, and while I'd love to be able to write something eloquent and coherent about what it feels like to have wrapped up 4.5 years of our lives, ramblings is all I can come up with. So here goes.
1. I feel like I'm floating in between two lives. Habit dictates that we should be heading back over the Alps to our little flat in Milan, but my mind is trying to brace itself for I-don't-even-know-what. A glimpse, we had, but what will our day-to-day lives look like? I have no idea.
2. Twenty-two boxes, two big suitcases, two small suitcases, two rucksacks, a big bag and a handbag. That's what we left with, after having arrived in 2011 with only one suitcase and two rucksacks. Oh, and a Bean. When we arrived it was just the two of us, and we've left with an extra something rather wonderful, if very loud.
3. I miss our friends in Milan already. Considering we were once convinced we would never make any, this is quite something. It feels strange to have lost the solidarity that comes with having (barely) survived a month of 40° C heat together. My heart aches to see the Bean and his little friends' faces light up with glee and mischief just one more time. I can't quite believe we won't be there to share the grand "rientro" in late August, nor post-summer battle scars and new-school tears at the gates.
4. Sleep, crochet, and think of nothing. That is all I want to do. Occasionally to empty my brain of ramblings. But really, that's it. I especially don't want to think about boxes.
5. I love finally having time to watch my Bean be beanish, without work or packing or endless to-do lists cluttering up my mind. To listen to him enthuse about the big diggers building new houses in his grandparents' village, and hear him serenade Happy Birthday tooo youuuuu to everyone, every day. To read ten books with him back to back, and not watch the clock while I'm doing it.
2. Twenty-two boxes, two big suitcases, two small suitcases, two rucksacks, a big bag and a handbag. That's what we left with, after having arrived in 2011 with only one suitcase and two rucksacks. Oh, and a Bean. When we arrived it was just the two of us, and we've left with an extra something rather wonderful, if very loud.
3. I miss our friends in Milan already. Considering we were once convinced we would never make any, this is quite something. It feels strange to have lost the solidarity that comes with having (barely) survived a month of 40° C heat together. My heart aches to see the Bean and his little friends' faces light up with glee and mischief just one more time. I can't quite believe we won't be there to share the grand "rientro" in late August, nor post-summer battle scars and new-school tears at the gates.
4. Sleep, crochet, and think of nothing. That is all I want to do. Occasionally to empty my brain of ramblings. But really, that's it. I especially don't want to think about boxes.
5. I love finally having time to watch my Bean be beanish, without work or packing or endless to-do lists cluttering up my mind. To listen to him enthuse about the big diggers building new houses in his grandparents' village, and hear him serenade Happy Birthday tooo youuuuu to everyone, every day. To read ten books with him back to back, and not watch the clock while I'm doing it.
6. I'm astonished at how un-British we've become. We're predictably snooty about the coffee (although the flat white I had at The Coffee Cellar in Exeter was really, really good - oh the comfort!) and we can't fathom the shorts because it's clearly FREEZING. I don't know what to do with the silent shopping in the supermarkets. I think every dark-ish cloud heralds the coming of the apocalypse, while my mother-in-law just laughs and hangs out the washing. And when did everyone start serving drinks in jars?!
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7. There are delights too though, like burgers at Byron, ALL the crumpets for breakfast, and crawling under a pile of cosiness instead of the air-conditioning at the end of the day.
8. I can't tell you how much I'm loving the wind. To not be breathing in hot, stale air. To feel the cobwebs be blown out of my clogged-up brain, to smell the sea rather than my neighbour's cigarette smoke. And to rejoice that soon the sea will be a permanent fixture in our lives. Very, very soon.
8. I can't tell you how much I'm loving the wind. To not be breathing in hot, stale air. To feel the cobwebs be blown out of my clogged-up brain, to smell the sea rather than my neighbour's cigarette smoke. And to rejoice that soon the sea will be a permanent fixture in our lives. Very, very soon.
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