Leaving America (sob)

“Why did we leave?” I asked DH, as we drove to Minneapolis airport at the end of a wonderful holiday. “I love America – everything’s so green, so spacious, so easy and I get so many comments about my accent!”

We’d driven past our house, again, and taken a detour so I could retrace a drive I used to do nearly every day when BB was little (a nostalgic form of hara-kiri).

“Let’s move back,” I challenged. “I really think we should. It’s not right that the kids don’t get to play in the woods [referring to a little incident in which we discovered that our desert-raised BB is terrified of forests] and don’t get to enjoy all these lakes,” I continued as I glumly watched the lush scenery pass by. Greenery that will – at the end of the sweltering hot summer – give way to the brilliant red and gold hues of Fall.

‘Minnesota nice’: This lake is just round the corner from our house, and we gave it all up – sigh!

I do this every year on our long summer sojourn. Despite enjoying our Dubai life very much, I remember just how much I love seeing family and friends. How much I enjoy fresh air, my favourite foods, effective customer service and people who understand what I’m saying.

“Well, we had good reasons for moving,” DH reminded me. “Just look how much travelling you’ve done since.” Then he played his trump card with, “And if we came back to America, you wouldn’t have Catherine the Great.”

He gets me with that one, every single time.

Imagining my life without Catherine the Great – yikes..

There are many reasons why I miss the States so much – here are just some of them:

• The wide-open spaces: Big skies, no bumping into people, and always room to swing a cat

• The positive outlook: Americans see the glass as half full

• The can-do attitude: So refreshing and a deep-rooted trait (AmeriCAN)

• The random conversations: Strangers talk to each other, about everything and anything

• The extras: From free wi-fi to refills at restaurants

• The shopping: Target is retail Disneyland and I got to go straight there after our luggage got lost (wooohooo)

• Their love of pets: Cat with an ear infection? No ailment is overlooked

• The seasons: I got to ditch coats I thought were warm in the UK and buy fleece-lined mountain gear instead

• The welcome: With the notable exception of immigration at O’Hare, I’m always welcomed with open arms in America (the accent, perhaps, with the inflections I don’t hear and foreign terms?)

• The opportunities: Be it Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears or just your average schmuck, Americans allow people to mess up and get second, third, even fourth chances

• The patriotism. Americans love their country. Period.

Minnesota, I’ll miss you – though, I must say, it looks like our timing turned out to be good this summer….

Empty nest syndrome

Other than bad news from home, if there’s a day in expatland that rocks your boat it’s surely the day visitors leave.

And, having been an expat for nearly a decade now, I’ve realised something: good-byes don’t get any easier.

Departures are generally abrupt and tend to sneak up on you. The day before is normal, full of activity, but with some packing-by-stealth in the evening (so the kids go to bed without a scene).

The next day, the leaving day, can even start quite normally with cups of tea served and some chit-chat. Then, suddenly, suitcases appear downstairs, placed by the door as though standing guard. Before you know it, good-byes are being said and, like a plaster being ripped off, your visitors are gone. Vanished. Whisked off to the airport by DH.

Mum and Dad are, once again, a 7-hour plane ride away

Where there was a book and a pair of reading glasses, there’s now a space. Where there were multiple mugs, there are suddenly empty coasters. Whereas just 12 hours previously my mind was buzzing with arrangements, meal plans and grocery runs, it’s now a void – the lists I made that served as my brain redundant.

As your visitors settle down to an airplane meal and a movie, you realise you hit pause on your expat life, turned down invites, disappeared off the radar so you could enjoy your guests, and now need to pick yourself up and resume day-to-day life. The only trouble is it’s hard to get off the sofa you’ve been so busy entertaining!

The other thing I’ve realised about visitors leaving is that grandchildren take empty nest syndrome to a new, and vocal, level. Oldest son was spirited away by the school bus before The Departure. Youngest son slept through it, then awoke to an echoey-quiet house.

“Where’s Nanny gone? Where’s Grand-da?” he cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. His face crumpled as a frantic search round the house revealed that I hadn’t hidden them.

His sobbing intensified further when he realised his brother had gone back to school (a week earlier than his nursery re-opens).

“I w.a.n.t to go to school,” he pleaded!

With a determined look on his face, he then put his shoes on and marched out the door – and we had no choice but to walk to ‘school’ to prove it was, indeed, locked.

“Where’s Ms Annette? Where’s evwy-one gone?,” he spluttered while standing at the gate in disbelief. “Evwy-one swimming? Nanny and Grand-da swimming too?” he enquired, finally satisfied he’d got to the bottom of it.

“Yes, LB, everyone’s swimming,” I replied to buy some time – thinking to myself, “Yes LB, I know. I feel it too.”