It all started on a blustery cold day in November, I was feeling particularly weary about the state of America, I know silly, but hey I’m getting older and I have four children whose future lies in my hands. Anyway, we were on the eve of election day 2016 and my first thought was “this is it, these are our choices?” neither of which I was particularly fond of, and regardless of who was ultimately chosen I figured it would be a rough four years. What does this have to do with anything? Well, a lot actually. This entire election season brought out the ugly in many of those I considered friends and family; the ugly in the country I was proud of, and just the ugly in people in general. All this said to conclude, I longed for a break, an escape.
It was during a low moment in my thinking when I received an email from my husband, I receive about 40-50 emails a day from him while he is working by the way, this one, in particular, struck me because it simply said, “do you want to move to Dublin for 2 years?” There is a little history to this question, one piece of history being that this is not the first time the question has been asked in the last two years.
About two and half, well let’s say three, three years ago, Kevin’s group at Microsoft opened a branch at their international campus in Dublin, Ireland, and Kevin was asked to go there for two to three months to help set things up and do some training. At the time, I was five months pregnant with my now two-year-old. We hemmed and hawed about going, debated about the timing, talked to my obstetrician, and decided that if we were going to do it we would need to leave sooner rather than later; I needed to return before I was in the “no fly” zone for pregnant women. Unfortunately, Microsoft couldn’t quite get their side of things put together and by the time they were ready to send us, I passed the flying date and only a few weeks from my due date; so we stayed.
Kevin and I have had a running joke for the last two years; he asks me if I’m ready to move and I say no. Maybe that isn’t a joke, but I never really know how serious he is about the whole thing. What started as a two-month stint has turned into a request for a full-fledged uprooting of our family for at least a two-year stay. I have been reluctant because two years is a long time to be away from family and friends.
Fast forward three years. We now have 4 children and no more pregnancies planned. This is where my first paragraph about needing “space and a break” from the ugliness of the country comes into play. At a particularly low moment of feeling hopeless and depressed, I received an email that would change all our lives.
“Do you want to move to Dublin for two years?”
I responded simply, “Yes”.
