My Father's Husband: a Novel by Elloise Bennett

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Moving

This morning was hard. Terrible.

I cried nearly the entire way to the airport in Bordeaux.

Leaving France. Leaving Nérac. Leaving Bapaumes. Leaving the life I have built.

From the outside it may seem that I am footloose and fancy free. Constantly in new places and discovering different faces.

But the core of me longs for roots. Deep ones.

And I had thought I had found them here in Nérac. At Bapaumes.

But as the sun set on my last day of living in France last night, I knew I had to go. For so many many reasons. Even if I am going only for a season, a chapter in my life.

For weeks I have been alternating between being excited and being sad. Between wanting to stay and wanting to go. Between googling bookstores near my new place in New York City - English bookstores! What a luxury! - and taking as many bike rides as I could to savor the smell of earth and land and sun of here.

Yesterday the dam broke and I was solidly in the 'I'm-miserable' camp. I took a bike ride to town just because I could... And it was a mistake. It was full of melancholy and lost dreams.

But dreams are ephemeral for a reason. They need to be renewed, rejuvenated, get a few cycles of REM into them so that they can be made into the best versions of themselves.

I will tackle this move with dreams at the forefront. Nostalgia in the background. Sandwiched in between will be gratitude for all the incredible experiences I've had while living in Europe for the past 6 years.

So... Moving. Dreaming.

Dream a little dream with me?

Sunrise on my last day at Bapaumes, on new dreams