I've written before about the journey being as important as the destination. You can't get where you want to go without the journey, after all.
I feel like I've been in transit for a while. Over the last three years we have moved five times: from Argentina to London (and within) to Luxembourg via Norfolk a couple of times. There have always been boxes. There has always been the sense of nearly there, but never quite. There has always been the word When... Fill in the blank with various hopes: we have our own place/I get a great job/we move/we are married/we have enough money. You get the point.
Two days ago, my husband and I arrived in Luxembourg.
But, as well as the wonder and excitement when you move to a new place, there is also the operational, logistical, social and administrative jumps to make. We're here in a permanent place, but not in a permanent apartment. So there's still a lot of When going on. Throw in a few Ifs and a large handful of Maybes and you realise we are still in transit. I can't buy pillows or cups or curtains because I have some arriving at some point. I don't know when and I don't know where it will all arrive to. But when it's here I can... Again, fill in the blanks.
All this moving makes us leave the present again. The thing I wanted was to get here and just be. Live together again, just us, feeling our way around. So as we wander new forests and avenues and squares and cycle paths, I spend my energy ignoring the infinite possibilities all around us and try to concentrate on the now. Because it's beautiful.
And because, finally, our future is here.