The journey that lead me to come back home was long and exausting. a little over 12 years of fun, sweat, and tears in nyc.
Years of intensity, of courage (or innocence?), and of self devellopment: my 20´s.
There i made my friends, i studied every class i could afford and i met my husband.
But then... now what? NYC was not doing it for me anymore.
i started to be those bitchy newyorkers that complained about the weather, and read dwelt magazine as if it was porn. i started missing home like i never did before. i stoped trying and froze. we started to look for places in brooklyn, queens, long island... you name it.
nothing was good enough for me. it was time to go home.
when my husmand finally put his foot down and decide to move to brazil sooner than later, we entered the fase that was bitter sweet with the intensity of manhattan: saying goodby to our newyorkers friends was the hardest. i was done with the city, not with them.
the entire month was filled with dinner parties, happy hours, huggs, tears, promisses and hope. hope i would get my groove back.
My family had been worried about me and my frozen state of life for years, so they were glad that i made home still sane.
Getting here was like a dream. I know how lucky I am. so many expatriates dream about coming back home and never could...
I arrived exausted, still drunk from the night before... and very very hopefull: I am getting my brazilian cool back.
My familly was all toguether waiting for us with treats, drinks and warmth. It was probably one of the best days of my life. I felt loved, i felt safe, i felt empowered: i was changing my destiny again and this time suffering was optional.
No comments:
Post a Comment