Sibylle looking out at the sea wearing my shaggy black sheep/jumper
Whenever my family visit I am surprised by how easily I switch to house-full-of-people mode. This time there were three of us, which tends to be the maximum in my house, but considering it is is a tiny house that sleeps only three, it does feel full. My younger sister and her husband came over for my 30th birthday, and now they are gone the house seems big and empty.
I slept in the single bed in the spare room while they were here, and even though it lacks the plush bedding of my double bed and fails most feng shui criteria (facing a door, in the wrong direction, and I store artwork under it - under my own bed there is only glorious free space), I always sleep like a baby in that bed. Perhaps it's the knowledge that there are people I love in the room beside me.
I am looking forward to more family time in the summer when I go home for a few weeks, and my older sister and her (Irish) husband are moving here next month, something that still hasn't registered as reality - I will have family here! A friend said that it would change me (it certainly will be a huge change for my sister and brother-in-law), alleviate the inevitable feeling of displacement that comes with living in another country away from one's tribe. Or maybe my sister and I will just miss the rest of the family more.
Our younger sister wrote this, and it is heart-breaking for me to read, despite her positivity [I stole your post title, Sibylle!]. The three-sisters constellation is a special one. And then there is our mother. When I moved here aged 19 it was all an adventure - there were tears shed in the airport, on both sides, and I felt raw at times, but I knew it was what I wanted. This place still is where I want to be, but it doesn't get easier as you get older; rather the opposite, even if I don't always cry when saying goodbye again. I wish geographical obstacles weren't as pronounced as they are.