12 years ago we were on the point of moving to the Netherlands.
12 years ago the place that feels old now was brand new for us.
12 years ago I was making plans where to put our furniture (the few things we had) and the books (we already had a lot of those).
12 years ago I did not speak any Dutch.
12 years ago we had no kids.
12 years ago we were not even married yet.
Now I am realising that this 12 years are the longest I have ever spent in one place.
The boys only know this home, younger one was even born in this house (different story). They have learned to walk here, never even blinking at those steep Dutch stairs. They never tripped over the one step between living room and kitchen, because they did not know a world were there wasn’t one.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not regretting our decision to move. On the contrary, this place has enough annoying features to make me not feel sad to leave it. And I am totally excited about our new place.
But there was a time when this place was heaven – it was big, spacious (without kids, coming from a small apartment), the balcony was huge compared to the one we used to have before. The excitement of living near the sea (we still will be), of exploring a new town (still enough places to explore if I choose so). Coming to this place was adventure (new country, new language, new everything).
Now, on the point of moving, between all the excitement of having the new house, the garden, everything, I want to stand still by the happy memories of this place. Saying a sort of thank you.
Thank you for the good times.
And now let the next adventure begin.
New home, we are coming!