Tosa to Tarporley and back(ish)

This is the post where we come full circle. The, “well we did it!” just as I wrote back in 2018. Tosa to Tarporley and back (well, we’re not living back in Tosa, but nearby). We’ve been back in Wisconsin since before Christmas, and now it’s spring. Tim’s working, the boys are in school, our dog Jack is back and lounging all day on our couch, and I’m starting a contracting role with my previous company next week. We’ve been able to see family and some friends, which has been amazing.

That’s the short version, and what I should have written months ago. But the longer story is that reflecting on the move is complex; it was a series of difficult and emotional goodbyes, lack of sleep and stress about getting everything done, and expected and unexpected adjustments to living back in the U.S. Maybe that’s why it’s taken me so long to write about, or maybe I just didn’t know how to start.

When I last wrote, I was recapping our last real adventure in the U.K., a trip to Scotland over Grant’s birthday. It was really magical and will always hold a special place in our hearts. The following months were mostly blur of a feverish focus on knocking out items on our long list of to-dos. I added to the list one at a time, checking off but never deleting the ones before it, just for the mere sense of accomplishment. I still have it – whether out of a sense of relief or paranoia that I forgot something, I can’t say – so I thought I would check out many items there were in total. 231. Hundreds of to-do items. Some very, very small (thank you note for Bennett’s piano teacher!), but I couldn’t trust my brain to not forget.

The bigger items included selling our cars and getting rid of things we weren’t taking, and getting ready to pack the things we were. Selling our cars came down to the very final days. For some reason, when you are buying used cars you think they cost WAY too much. And when you turn around and sell them just a couple of years later, they are worth way, WAY too little. We spent hours listing them, fielding questions and responses online about them, cleaning them again and again when people wanted to come take a look, and meeting people who were vaguely interested. One man said to Tim, “ah, I like it but my wife doesn’t want a four-door.” Which feels like something you would know beforehand from the photos? We determined that there were several people just looking for an excuse to get out of the house in a period of semi-lockdown. Finally, we took them to a We Buy Used Cars place. When it was done, I said to Tim, “We should have done that from the start,” and he agreed.

We sold a few items that we could get a little cash for like our big IKEA wardrobe, barstools and my beloved Ninja blender, but gave most things to friends – toys the boys had outgrown, home decor, plants. It makes me happy to know they are getting use out of them. The movers came to pack us over a series of three days, which was stressful to prep, but worked well in execution. Tim worked from the house while fielding their random questions and I ran errands and got things done.

One of those “errands” was was visiting various antique stores to find the perfect tea set to ship. (If you would have told me 15 years ago I would write that sentence with all sincerity…I would have given you a major side eye.) I may not have learned to love tea during my time there, but I did learn to love the experience of having a cup of tea with a friend. In fact, it was one of the things I requested as a goodbye event with a couple of girlfriends, a proper tea with cakes and scones and sandwiches. It was perfect.

While it was hard to live without our things for a bit, we at least could see clearly what needed to still go. Things were moved into piles in each corner of the now almost-empty place we had called home. Slowly, we got rid of things, got it cleaned, and took one last look. It was a beautiful spot for us to live for a few years and we’re grateful for it, especially during the year of staying at home. Thanks, Dogmore Lane.

We moved into an Airbnb right in the village of Eaton, a cute cottage run by the proprietors of the local coffee shop. They knew us through our Saturday morning post-football training stop for sausage baps that were the boys’ favorite. It was the perfect place to call home for the final two weeks – right across the street from school, close to the house we were leaving, and they were even kind enough to decorate it for Christmas and give the boys Christmas gifts to take with them. Through the magic of Santa, we even had a real, decorated tree for Christmas.

I think the hardest part was juggling all of the different emotions and tasks, but wanting to make things as easy and as smooth for the boys as possible. They went to school until the end, and we spent time doing our favorite things. They picked out Build-A-Bears with England outfits. One night, we picked up wood-fired pizza from a canal boat and walked the pretty streets of Tarporley while sipping hot chocolate and dropping letters to Santa. We wanted to make things as normal as possible, and find the Christmas spirit in the midst of all of the chaos.

Meanwhile, Tim was working nonstop. He had mostly transitioned into his new U.S. job from the U.K., so he was trying to work U.S. hours, do most of the legwork with the logistical part of the move and all of the other husband/dad stuff. He was exhausted and barely sleeping. Coworkers told him he looked terrible over video chats. He laughed it off, but I know he felt it. I’m grateful for how hard he worked and that he’s back to just working his regular long hours, ha.

The last week was filled with goodbyes. Farewells to teachers and friends on the last day of school, which led to toasting with prosecco in plastic cups on the playground where I first met so many of my mom friends, and spent time talking and building our relationships as our kids did the same. A gorgeous meal made by dear friends, reminiscing about the memories made in the short time, and plans to meet up again in the future. A final football practice with their mates, and a great speech from Bennett’s coach about how he always will be part of their team. Hugs and tears. And finally, spreading a small amount of Grant’s ashes, because he was always with us in England.

We were picked up by a shuttle van on Monday afternoon, December 14. I wiped tears as we drove away and we sat in silence for a bit. The boys were sad, but had Christmas in Iowa on their mind, and I was grateful for that. We watched the rolling hills pass by, noticing that the height of the van gave us a better vantage point than we ever had in our cars – our views into many of the surrounding fields were usually blocked by the tight wall of hedges. We were about 20 minutes from home, headed down to London before flying out the next day, when we noticed a field. We had driven this road several times every week, but had never been able to see over the top into the field. There we saw several beautiful shaggy, curved-horn hairy cows, grazing in the grass. Cows that we had practically stalked all over Scotland. Tim and I burst out laughing. They were there all along, and we had no idea.

The flight from London to Chicago went better than expected. We had lots of space around us, nice seats and felt very safe. A lot of people asked us how it was to fly/move internationally during Covid, but we found it almost as normal besides masks. No temp checks or questions on either side. We filled out one piece of paper related to Covid, but no one ever asked us for it. Upon our return, we laid low and tested before Christmas. It was right at the time that the variant was gaining traction so we wanted to be careful. We were fine, but it was sad to watch England go back into a long lockdown right after we left – one they are really just coming out of now. We are SO hopeful for continued improvement in 2021 and that we can return for a visit next year.

Many of the conversations when we run into people are about how great it must be to be home, and how much we must have enjoyed living overseas because of the travel and fun sightseeing. And those things are all very much true! But I’ve realized that our time in England was mostly made in the everyday moments – the friendships built over lattes and bike rides, cheering alongside parents at rowdy football matches, chatting with the neighbors about the way things used to be. The smallest moments are the ones are the ones where I now feel the biggest sense of absence.

Rereading this post, I’m realizing that it sounds a bit melancholy. But I’m going to leave it that way. I was going to get into the “well we’re back and here’s what next!” of it all, but I’ll save that for next time, and let the goodbyes sit in the sadness. Sometimes that’s OK.

If you’ll indulge me, I’m going to keep writing – I still have some posts I’ve been meaning to write a couple of trips (I haven’t written about London once despite several visits!) and overall takeaways from the expat life. It won’t be timely, but it will be fun to revisit and document. Perhaps I’ll write about what’s next, and see where this blog goes from here…it might be due for a rebrand. Any suggestions?

Here’s some final pics: boarding the plane in 2018 and unboarding the plane in 2020. What a journey.