After three years I'm pretty rusty, both with blogging and with age. Things are very different from the last time I wrote on here. We sold our house and did a 180 with our lives. Maybe it was the pandemic or maybe it was just life. Anyhow, we moved across the sea back to the Netherlands. It was a difficult decision. Hindsight will only tell us if it was a good one, needless to say the perks are obvious with the youngest two kids attending a school unlike anything they've experienced, the endless history and travel and most importantly: the cheese. With family coming and going our time together has highlighted the phrase quality time.
All my words these last few years have been ink to paper. My mind has had an outpouring of thoughts, observations, opinions, frustrations, and now strangely a degree of calmness. These new routines of the last six months are a comfort. They feel nice and the boys seem to be thriving. We were stuck with few options of a change that we were willing to climb aboard with. So we did the extreme. And yes not living near our adult kids and grandkids has been the hardest thing to not let sink my ship, so to speak. It's a physical pain that bubbles up to boiling from a simmer with just a slight trigger of a memory or holiday. (Insert extremely long, exhaling sigh here.)
Today is half over and it's just a regular old day. Boys at school, husband at work, third load of laundry spinning in the world's smallest washing machine. I road my bike in the sprinkling rain to get schnitzel for supper and came back with some flowers to arrange. I pulled out all my half finished sewing projects and thought I was filled with determination when I glanced at my morning list of things that really can't wait one more day. So I did them and for some reason that inspired me to log in here so I can start writing again about the everyday of this new location and all the trials and rejoices of new language and customs and how my dorkiness knows no borders.
