In the spring, we’re traveling back to the United States to visit family, friends, and empty out the storage unit that’s been hanging around like a bad habit.
I haven’t been back to the U.S. since we left in August 2024, which feels like a lifetime and a moment ago all at once. When we landed in Valencia, everything was a rush. Rushing to get the kids’ school supplies. Rushing to the bus stop for their first day of school. Rushing to complete our padrón. And while all of that still feels like it just happened, it was more than a year ago.
Nothing slowed down until we began to settle in. We found our new “normal” — Will taking the dog out for his morning walk while I packed snacks for the kids’ school day and made sure they were ready to go. Exploring the city one neighborhood at a time, discovering favorite new haunts for lunch and coffee. It took months, but we all finally settled, feeling more and more at home the better we got to know the city.
Part of me wonders how much has changed. The other part wonders what will be exactly the same as it always was.
Have you ever gone on vacation for a week or two and come back to find something noticeably different? A tree cut down. A new foundation poured. Is it going to be like that?
The kids are excited. The prospect of familiar foods, language, and visiting family has them planning where they’ll have each longed-for experience. They want to eat at Zaxby’s, hang out on their uncle and aunt’s mini farm, and revel in the familiarity of visits to Walmart.
I have more complicated feelings.
Going “home” (is it still?) means seeing my siblings, the last people on earth who know what it was like to grow up in my household. It means tamales and margaritas at the Tex-Mex joint we used to frequent, and hugs from my long-time friend who just moved back to Tennessee after several years away. It means wandering the aisles of Walmart or TJ Maxx, just to “see what we see.”
These are all things I treasure and look forward to, and yet they don’t feel like part of the life I have now. Am I still going to fit like I used to, or will I find myself standing on the outside looking in, hoping I can slot my way back into the puzzle?
Grief is part of moving abroad. You leave behind pieces of your identity, closing entire chapters of your life in pursuit of cracking open a new book — one that usually doesn’t include the people you love most.
I’ve heard people who’ve lived abroad a long time say they never fully fit into their new country, but they no longer fit into their old life either. Your perspectives and experiences shift, giving you vision from an angle you didn’t have before — and that others still don’t.
The excitement of seeing family and friends, eating familiar foods, and speaking English all the time is undeniable. But I love my life in Valencia. When the trip is over, will I be eager to return to our routine here, or will I find myself longing for the life I used to have?
And then I think about the storage unit. It’s full of mementos from 20 years of marriage, our childhoods, and our kids’ childhoods. Some of those items were passed down from our parents: the vintage Christmas ornaments I’m itching to hang on a tree again, the stockings tucked away for safekeeping, and the baby clothes and artwork I couldn’t bear to part with. Will walking into that unit feel like stepping back into our old life?
The kids keep peppering us with questions about what we’ll do in the U.S. They’ve come to appreciate their lives in Valencia, but the U.S. is where they’ve spent most of their childhood. I wonder which place will have the firmer grip on them now — which one they’ll eventually call “home.” And whether it will match my own.
I don’t think these questions are much different for someone moving to another state instead of another country. You’re still leaving behind the familiar and stepping into the unknown. The pull to what was may always be there, but what it once was — even a short time ago — can never be again.
I understand these feelings, I've lived abroad 6 years now and each trip back feels different. At first it felt very familiar. Similar to what you said - eat at the old favorite restaurants, wander the aisles, catch up with people. But it started to feel less and less like that overtime. Embrace whatever it is for now, because it will probably continue to evolve over time. Wishing you a great trip!
Reading this brought back so many memories from my first time living abroad. You captured that emotional pull perfectly-I always described it as a sort of purgatory for expats of immigrants. Well done!