70 Days Away
70 Days Away
Large exhale in…large exhale out. To be honest this entry is going to be a bit scattered like my current mind and emotions are. We came to the South of France to explore the option of living here. In our short time we have been challenged by heatwaves, toddlerhood, canceled trains, covid, flus, food poisoning (multiple times) and the whirlwind of life. Through this we have simultaneously managed to create a community around us full of wonderful people, families alike, travelers, and have found a little corner for ourselves perched up in our apartment. We have met with estate agents and scheduled phone calls with brokers to understand the potential of purchasing here in the South of France, all the while we continue to compare our feelings and wonder if it will happen, should it happen, is it the right move, are we making a mistake, how will we fit in, will Fynn thrive? As I digest all of these questions, experiences and feelings still, I think it's safe to say that I am happy we were challenged as much as we were during this trip. It really has allowed me to ask myself “Can we do it?”, “Do we want to do it”, “Is it worth the struggle” and a million more questions.
As I reflect on these wonderful families we have met, the education we have received from so many locals already living here, the warmest welcome from so many, and these adventures we have taken with Fynn so far in our 70 days absent from home. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that we have widened his world just a little bit more. We have watched him adapt quickly to new sleeping arrangements, rushed airline boarding, train rides, children playing in multiple languages at the park and so much more. We are grateful that we have been able to expose him to all of this traveling and culture. We hope that in some way this becomes a part of who he is and when he is older he will seek out adventure feeling in some ways familiar.
He has discovered truffle salami and the spices of shakshuka in Marrakech. He prefers sparkling over still and will jump at the invitation to go buy cheese at the market of course with his market basket. He asks to go play with his friend in Marrakech and wants to meet up with his friends in France. He loves to give the street performers his last coins and claps when they are finished. He wakes up and asks me “market day mama”? This is the life I want him to have. I want him to be accessible to all of these experiences and cultures. To speak more than one language, to not only live a life in one place but to have spread his youth across many places accessible at his fingertips.
When I reflect on all of our stays we took so far elsewhere than the south of France- London, Barcelona, Paris, Nice, Marrakech, there is no denying that when we return to Provence we feel an overwhelming sense of calm. It is true what they say- that Provence is just a different way of life. I felt a great connection when I came here in the summer of 2019, one that I had not expected to have. It haunted me for 3 years (when I couldn't visit) this feeling that I needed to be back in Provence to see if I had that feeling again. I needed to know if it was just an illusion.
Some of our most memorable moments of this stay were sitting across the table of families that we can now call friends and who are all in different parts of their lives, young- in college having grown up here. Family with two young children, a retired couple who moved here many years ago from the UK, a women recently widowed who finds joy retracing the steps that her and her husband once took here. These are just some of the loveliest families and people we have met and reconnected with while we were here. They all have one thing in common and one thing they share with us. They all love Provence, they are all thriving here and find that it is peaceful. Some even share that this was unexpected and they resisted at first but so happy they have landed where they did. Others have shared it was the best way to grow up, some wished they had moved here sooner and others say they cannot imagine living anywhere else.
We have peeked into this world while we have been here. Only just scratched the surface of life in Provence. In many ways I feel that when we depart on Friday-we are leaving home. It feels very bittersweet.
In this moment it feels as though I am living two lives simultaneously, the one we have built at “home” in California and the one we are building here. Perhaps this is what it feels like to widen your world, to spread your life having lived in many places. Perhaps this is OK. Maybe you can have both.
I don't have all the answers yet. I don't have all my feelings sorted. But there is absolutely no denying the fact that I am a better version of myself here. Better for Fynn, better for Jon. I am not sure how this all makes sense yet, how all the families and friends we have met now and in the past all fit together. How our life back at home will bleed into this one if and when we move. If our hopes will turn into reality. There is a little voice inside calling me back to Provence still and I need to know what it is trying to tell me and perhaps show me.
Whenever I am feeling doubt- the late afternoon light captures my attention and draws me to stillness. Provence light is just different and until you see it for yourself- it feels impossible to describe, but for me it wraps me in a warmth of possibility and it reminds me that anything is possible.
I will end my scattered note with a quote from Peter Mayle from his book A Year in Provence.
“We had been here often before as tourists, desperate for our annual ration of two or three weeks of true heat and sharp light. Always when we left, with peeling noses and regret, we promised ourselves that one day we would live here. We had talked about it during long gray winters and damp green summers, looked with an addict’s longing at photographs of village markets and vineyards, dreamed of being woken up by the sun slanthing through the bedroom window”
