Part 26 - A little note from NZ

In 24 hours, New Zealand goes into lock-down.

No travelling to your usual place of work (unless you are considered to deliver an essential service).

No on-site attendance at daycare, school or other educational institution.

No non-essential places open (cafes, bars, restaurants, malls, etc.).

No children's birthday parties.

No attendance at lessons; swimming, ballet, sports.

No meeting up with friends for a catch up.

No parks or playgrounds.

We can go out in the sunshine, whilst maintaining 2 metre physical distancing from anyone we're not home-isolating with. We can go and buy food from the grocery stores. We can go to hospital, should the need arise (let's hope not). 

The rest of life - for now - is on hold while we all take a collective breath and commit to doing what we need to, to save the lives of others.

I love the perspective that this gives

I have ridden the roller-coasters of emotion that come with being told your whole world is about to change beyond all recognition: that the freedom that I took for granted is going to be taken away (to a degree), that the physical touch of others that I rely on, is no longer there to comfort me. That "just popping out to pickup...." is no longer a part of my day. I will continue to ride those emotional roller-coasters too - they don't all show up within a 24 hour period.

AND we are lucky. We are safe, we live in a developed country. We have access to warm clothes, warm houses, a plentiful supply of locally grown food, we have medical and emotional support, should we need it.

We have not seen the devastation and disruption that has occurred in other parts of the world. The worst may be yet to come to NZ but I am hopeful. If we all do the right thing we can beat this, and we can drive the change we are all longing to see.

See, this isn't about us - this is about other people. It's about imagining that we've been infected and are trying not to pass it on to someone in our community who is more vulnerable than us who will die from it. This isn't a game of chicken, this is life or death. Now is not the time for rule breaking.

So for now, we are closed to normality, but we are open to new ways of doing things. When normality returns (which it inevitably will) I hope we are all a little wiser, a little kinder, a little more grateful and a little safer in the knowledge of the things that truly matter.

We are closed, but we're open to new ways of doing things

There's a saying that is incredibly reassuring for me in times of uncertainty:

"There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be"

~ John Lennon

For me, I'll be here, at home in New Zealand. Working remotely, connecting with loved ones (at home and online) and creating precious memories. I hope you'll be doing the same, wherever in the world you may be.

Kia kaha 💗

Part 25 - leaving your heart at the airport

It’s January, 2019. We have had a wonderful Christmas and New Year. My mum came to visit us for the first time in New Zealand since we emigrated in 2011 - it was amazing showing her the country we call ‘home’. We visited a living Maori village, we kayaked at night to see the glow worms in a canyon, we went to the beach, we saw waterfalls (lots of them!), we went shopping (lots of that too) and we spent time and energy on each other. It was so fulfilling to see my 2 year old daughter building her relationship with her nanny. Most of all, it was lovely to just be ... together. To have mum around as part of every day life.

Then comes the inevitable time of having to drop mum back off at Auckland Airport for the long trip back to Wales. This is that pit in your stomach that just won’t go away. This is the dread that you feel when you’re on the way to the airport to pick them up in the first place; knowing that next time you’re here you’ll be dropping them off. This is that ball of fire in your throat which hurts and feels like it will never go away. These are the tears which fall inevitably and consistently and effortlessly because it hurts so deep inside. This is leaving a piece of your heart at Auckland Airport, every time you come back to drop off the most precious pieces of cargo you will ever be connected to. Every. Single. Time.

And yet this is the life we chose. We chose to live 12,000 miles away from the people who complete us. We chose New Zealand. Others are not so fortunate and are separated for a myriad of reasons beyond their control. We chose it. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. And so we look forward to the ‘next times’.

Part 24 - Sometimes I wobble

So much has happened since I last wrote here in 2014:  we've moved house - I've lost count of how many times (pretty common out here when you're renting); we've been back to the UK for a holiday - and my big brother & Lucy's beautiful wedding;  I've had the absolute pleasure of one of my younger brothers living in the same country as me for the past 2.5 years (he was on a work holiday visa); we've continued to work and catch up with friends and generally live life. We've also had our first baby - a little girl who is now 16 months old and the absolute light of our lives. Her smiles and laughter fill our days - and our phone memory. She is also the reason for this post - sometimes I wobble.

Up until she was born I was so confident in my decision to live 12,000 miles away from the people I love the most. Up until she was born I was 100% committed to my new life in New Zealand. Up until she was born I could never see myself going to live back in Wales. I was - and still am - a big believer in the quote 'not all those who wander are lost' ... I actually have this quote framed in my house.

And then she arrived - a beautiful, healthy 8lb bundle of joy, light and love. She rocked our world.

So now, sometimes, I wobble. I think about everyone who we're denying her access to - and everyone who loves her so much from so far away, and I wobble. I question 'what if ...?' and 'how can we ...?' and ultimately 'is it still right for us?'

Then we talk about why we emigrated, what we were seeking when we chose NZ, what it means to us - and now to her as well, I look at the support we have around us - people who have our absolute best intentions at heart and are essentially our extended NZ family, and I am comforted. The life she will live here in NZ will be amazing and she is no less loved for living 12,000 miles away.

I'm under no illusion - one day she'll temporarily leave us to do her Overseas Experience (OE) and she'll be thankful to have such a warm, loving family to welcome her on the other side of the world, and UK citizenship of course.

Sometimes I wobble, and that's ok with me.