A few months back, I made a major transition. I moved 6,806 miles across the globe from Asia to Europe—for the second time.
16 years ago, I made the same move with my family, after my parents decided they had enough of Asia (I was born in Singapore) and wanted to live abroad. But a previous relationship had me moving back to Asia, and eventually staying on for another 7 years.
But this move back to Europe was different because I was doing it all by myself. So 1 big decision, 2 baggages, and 2 shipment boxes later, a new chapter of my life begins yet again.
Going back and forth between two countries seems to be my life story. Whenever I introduce myself to someone new, the responses I usually get are: “Oh that’s interesting, why did you or your family move?” or “How long will you be here or there for? Is it for good?” Hearing “for good” makes me nervous.
I never thought my life would turn out this way, and sometimes I wished it hadn’t. It feels like I’m in a tug-of-war, pulled both ways, or like a leaf blowing in the wind, with nowhere to settle. That said, I’m thankful for being able to experience life in a different country, though I wish I could do so without the feeling of unsettledness—the thought of not knowing where “home” is, or having a place to settle permanently.
It doesn’t help that my ideal picture is to get married and live in the same country with both my husband’s family and my family. To watch our parents in their golden years, and our future kids running about with their cousins at regular family gatherings.
But that dream seems a little far-fetched as I’m currently in a relationship with a guy whose heart is for missions in Asia. It’s only realistic to anticipate that I might some day have to return back to Asia again.