I thought I could go back. But it turns out going back just isn't me. In the same way I can't go back into my house to pee after I've closed the door behind me, even if I have to walk forward with crossed legs, going back to Bristol hasn't sat right with me.
And I've tried. I thought I could do the two up two down dog and cat thing but the truth is I can't. I wanted to. But for who? If I'm not happy then this ship starts to take in water. And that's really how it's felt. Heavy, soggy, hard.
So, I thought of things that make my soul sing and my eyes go their brightest shade of kiwi. There are a few, but the sun, the sea and learning and speaking a new language are pretty high on that list.
Then I thought of the shrinking window of time I get to open doors and experiences to my newly 12-year-old kid and what makes his eyes bright and I have decided to start again*...again.
*after pushing through the fear of what everyone would think/say about us moving.
I realised I just can't play small with our lives. I don't mind being wrong but I do mind letting fear stop me from jumping off the cliff, testing out the new words I've learned, jumping on a moped in the rain, and trying that thing I've always wanted to try.
So.... in a few weeks, we will be packed and heading to our new life in Barcelona where the boy will have the blue sea to play in, where I will finally learn salsa, where a whole new world of exciting and terrifying possibilities will open up to us and our eyes will get that light back in them that they always get from moving forward but seemingly not when looking back.