A couple of weeks ago, I ran across a Facebook group post from a parent who expressed anxiety about how growing up as third culture kids might impact their children long-term.
Where will they go to university? What kinds of jobs will be available to them as non-EU permanent residents? Is it better to go to university in the U.S. for job prospects?
I’ve been circling these same questions lately, especially as my oldest inches closer to high school.
And then a few days ago, I saw a post from a Facebook friend whose son moved to Spain as a preteen, went to post-secondary school in Ireland, and is now returning to the U.S. for a great job as a young adult.
One is a fear. The other is a reality.
As I watch parents a few years ahead of me launch their children, I’m realizing that no matter where mine finish growing up, I have little control over what their lives will look like in a few years. After all, if my mom had had her way, I would’ve lived down the street from her in my Kentucky hometown.
Instead, as most kids do, I carved my own path, finally landing two hours away in the suburbs of Nashville.
During the early days of our move to Spain, our son—the oldest, and the one with the strongest memories of life in the U.S.—spoke often about returning as soon as he graduated high school. He wanted to go back to his friends, familiar foods, and the scenery he’d grown up with.
Over time, he stopped talking about it as much. Conversations have turned to university options and where he might complete his education.
To my surprise, he’s beginning to consider Europe instead of the U.S.
This is the shift I’d been waiting for, because the selfish part of me—the part most like my mom—wants him to choose Europe, if not Spain.
Because I don’t want to move back to the U.S. If my son chooses Europe, I get two things:
My son is close enough to visit often.
Our decision to relocate our family abroad becomes the “right” decision.
