Over the Pond and Through the Heath

There are several images as we said goodbye to Pittsburgh that still haunt me. 

When the kids walked out of Chapel for the last time and I knew I wouldn't get to experience them as students in that special school anymore.  

My last game on the tennis courts that had built friendships, rivalries and the best relief to my stress.  

The last time I tied up my shoes and ran around the East End of the city, by our house on Bayard that was now empty, all of our stuff packed and on a ship headed across the ocean. 

The last night at the Golf Club, driving home under the Schenley Park sycamores while Peter played Werewolves of London in the car, tears welling in my eyes. 'We'll be back,' he said. 

The last hugs between siblings and cousins, after a last family dinner, not really anticipating that it would be far too long until the next ones. 

The photo of my kids with Nana and Opa at the airport – pure smiles on their faces representing all the joy they shared across the generational divide, during the three years we called Pittsburgh home.

And finally, the plane's ascent above the city, the golden triangle fading into the distance. It was when my emotions truly got the best of me. Seeing my city, my hometown, fade into memories yet again.

I honestly never thought I would call Pittsburgh my home again after I left in 2007. We were lucky that my negotiation tactics worked, and that we got to further my career while moving back to the neighborhood, school, and club that defined my childhood and early adulthood. Once back and once fully attuned, it felt like destiny to stay. But it wasn't to be. My company had other plans and the next adventure was waiting. I told my parents, don't be sad that it's over, be glad that it happened. I told myself that as well. 

Now, we live in London. We have been here for more than three months. And we will be celebrating Thanksgiving today over the pond, through the Heath, in our fourth home address of the year.

I've always said it takes two weeks to acclimate. When coming back from maternity leave, when taking on a new job, when moving to a new city, when matriculating at a new school, I've told myself, and our family to give it the obligatory two weeks. Two weeks is the time it takes to uncover new patterns, find comfort, and build confidence in the path forward.

After two weeks, Mary told me it still wasn’t easier. She wanted a refund on that advice.

Fair. Maybe international adjustments take longer. 

And as I reflect over the past three months …

We lived in a temporary house in Knightsbridge with mice in the kitchen, a leak in the dining room, five flights of stairs between my bedroom and the kitchen, a broken refrigerator, and spotty electricity.

     We then moved to a different temporary flat in Maide Vale, which was smaller, but much improved.

     We finally moved to our permanent house in Hampstead, and after several weeks of trying to fit an American household full of stuff into an English townhouse without a garage, we discarded a lot, found new methods of storage, and got relatively organized. 

My kids have started new schools. Yes schools, plural. Because in the 45 days between finding out about my assignment and moving, we were pressed to find good schools and placements for the kids. We were fortunate to land where we did, but with some inevitable logistical challenges. 

My kids started sports and dance. They have made friends, been invited to playdates and birthday parties, and are building a social life far better than mine. They have been pushed to work harder and learn more at school, particularly the three in the British school system which is ahead of the American one. They have each found their unique strides in a new urban environment, and I'm nothing but proud. 

 
Peter learned how to drive on the left side of the road, grocery shops on foot, cooked in kitchens with limited supplies, finalized selling our house in Pittsburgh and leasing our house here, processed the overwhelming amount of communication and paperwork from both schools, navigated the national health system, moved us in and out of three houses, and found a network of landscapers, cleaning support, and workmen to get our house into working order.  

I started a new job overseeing a big brand across an entire market spanning two countries. I learned how to stay confident with my American accent and approach. I've put the team through a bootcamp of sorts, level setting on business performance, evolving our plan, setting higher expectations and clarifying roles and responsibilities. I met peers running other countries across Europe, developing a new international network of colleagues. I presented in front of 1,000 people at our Summit. I've visited 35 restaurants across three of four devolved nations and the Republic of Ireland. I presented in front of and then had dinner with our CEO. I have built strong partnerships, gained followership, and started my brand ambassadorship, meeting politicians and even the Princess of Wales. 

We’ve explored London. We've seen shows in the West End, Bobby and Peter went to a cricket match, the kids have all experienced London as a classroom in school, I've run all the parks and all the miles, we went to museums, restaurants, markets, and stores. And more stores. And we overspent. We did it all. ALL. To make it feel more like home faster, easier, more completely. 

     But homemaking, comfort making, confidence building isn't something that can be rushed. Mary was right. Two weeks wasn't enough. But I think we've arrived at a place where we feel okay. Dare I say, good. With a turkey in the oven after a turkey bowl in Regent's Park, Bluey on the TV and paintings on the walls, Opa and Margaret playing cards while Mary plays the piano, Bobby's remote control car racing around the basement, flowers in the vases, and my attention where it should be, I think we can all say it feels like home.  

      And while I'll miss that image of my Dad taking his turkey out of the oven - the one that Peter has captured just about every year since we've been an item - the memories we are forming in London are the images I'm grateful for. I am forever thankful for the globally mobile home that Peter and I have created together. 

     

      Lo.