As life moves on in London, the few years have now become 11 years and I can't help but wondering. As we get into a bigger rent, school fees, nanny and everything else we already had before, you are not as far from break even as you would hope to be for living away from your home for 11 years. The feeling is more accute after buying the house in Lisbon, that is for sure. It is not that I did not grow to love London - I really do. I would miss our life here, the feeling of only having ourselves to respond to, the spontaneous brunches, visits to the park at C's insistence, the Sunday mass just the 3 of us, my friends. And work of course, I would miss work, because I am still quite fond of it. Perhaps because it was the only thing I was not afraid to change over the last years.
But then I wonder if a career change would also not be in order - even though I committed to put my dedication to entrepreneurship on hold for this year - except legal flow - it is dormant and sometimes wants to come out. The amount of time I have spare also does not let me implement all I would wish for in the charity. And could I afford any of these jobs in London? Unlikely.
One thinks you always want to leave when life is good so you feel like being abroad was a total success. But will you ever leave if it is?
And then it is the time of life when our families may need us the most, as our parents grow old, as people we grew up with start having health issues. You kind of just want to be there. Life does not always go on.
I was always thorn and I always wanted to go back home. But now there is an even bigger divide.
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