Two weeks ago I made a big announcement here: we are moving to Sweden. It's the start of what I hope will be a great adventure, but for us it actually all began about a month before our announcement! In mid-March it became clear that leaving Italy was a real possibility, and as we tried to make a decision I wrote down some of the things going through my head. I couldn't not write them down. As part of the Moving to Sweden section on this blog, I'll be publishing those posts retrospectively over the coming weeks. As always, I'd love to hear your reaction in the comments section below.
Moving to Sweden - The quiet before the storm
As I write this Mr P&P is in Cambridge, discussing a potential future. Next week we will all go to southern Sweden for a few days, to discuss an entirely different potential future. Is it possible to lead parallel lives?
And in the meantime it’s business as usual here in Milan. The Bean is playing cars with his bestie at nursery, the magnolias are finally in bloom after another germ-ridden winter. We’re making plans for a picnic with friends here, a trip to a wedding later in the year there. Is it possible to lead parallel lives in triplicate?
My head is in a complete spin, I quite literally don’t know whether I’m coming or going. Or actually, that’s not true: we ARE going. Somewhere. Because either of these opportunities would do very nicely. Because, no matter which way we look at it, there is no future here for us in Italy. They’ve been good to us, these four and a bit years in Milan, but it’s time to go.
At some point soon, possibly within months, we will go.
But no, sshhh, let’s not talk about that yet. For as long as possible, let’s try to ward off the heady cocktail of excitement and panic that is sure to hit as soon as the confirmation letter has been sent, the contract signed. Try not to walk around the flat while mentally putting things in boxes or giving them to the charity shop. Try not to feel overwhelmed by the prospect of having to find or conquer so many things in a short space of time: home, nursery, possibly a new language.
No, shhh. Enjoy the quiet before the storm. Hold on to it for dear life. Enjoy the magnolia, the Italian sunshine on my back as I watch my toddler play, blissfully unaware of his parents’ turmoil (or is he? Are the nightmares he’s been having almost every night indicative of a deeper understanding than we give him credit for?), filling and dumping out his new digger over and over. Do nothing, say nothing, plan nothing.
And in the meantime it’s business as usual here in Milan. The Bean is playing cars with his bestie at nursery, the magnolias are finally in bloom after another germ-ridden winter. We’re making plans for a picnic with friends here, a trip to a wedding later in the year there. Is it possible to lead parallel lives in triplicate?
My head is in a complete spin, I quite literally don’t know whether I’m coming or going. Or actually, that’s not true: we ARE going. Somewhere. Because either of these opportunities would do very nicely. Because, no matter which way we look at it, there is no future here for us in Italy. They’ve been good to us, these four and a bit years in Milan, but it’s time to go.
At some point soon, possibly within months, we will go.
But no, sshhh, let’s not talk about that yet. For as long as possible, let’s try to ward off the heady cocktail of excitement and panic that is sure to hit as soon as the confirmation letter has been sent, the contract signed. Try not to walk around the flat while mentally putting things in boxes or giving them to the charity shop. Try not to feel overwhelmed by the prospect of having to find or conquer so many things in a short space of time: home, nursery, possibly a new language.
No, shhh. Enjoy the quiet before the storm. Hold on to it for dear life. Enjoy the magnolia, the Italian sunshine on my back as I watch my toddler play, blissfully unaware of his parents’ turmoil (or is he? Are the nightmares he’s been having almost every night indicative of a deeper understanding than we give him credit for?), filling and dumping out his new digger over and over. Do nothing, say nothing, plan nothing.
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