Wait, am I crazy? I have been asking myself this question repeatedly over the last several weeks. I am ecstatically happy to be married to Patrick, and to have been able to get married with my family present and accounted for ... but I am just as emphatically NOT happy that he is already back in France, waiting for me as I begin the LONG process of obtaining my long-stay spouse visa. Seriously, a bureaucratic nightmare. Absolutely ridiculous amounts of paperwork and long wait times for processing. Blech.
By the time all of this comes together, and assuming I can get out of my lease and out from under my car payments ... I will go to France, two cats in tow, to this tiny village in the Auvergnes, and collapse into the waiting arms of my husband. Much mushiness and sexiness will ensue, but eventually we will wear ourselves out, and then I will have to face the fact that, no longer in my home country - I will be THE OUTSIDER. Even worse, THE AMERICAN. La Canourgue is not the type of place where there are a bunch of American expats just bumming around - I will be a genuine oddity to these people. Patrick himself is enough of an upset ("A Parisian? Who lived in the States for 15+ years? Mon Dieu!!") , but I have a feeling it is going to be a little tough to win friends and influence people, especially in a tongue I haven't spoken on a daily basis for about 10 years, and which I was NEVER fluent in. So, again - am I insane?
I don't want this to sound like I am not excited - I am. Immeasurably. My heart does the excited little bump-bump dance every time I stop and think, oh, my God. I'm really going to live with my husband in France. Holy shit. I am going out into the world to start a new part of my life, and that is damned exciting. Being married in and of itself is exciting - I certainly waited long enough to pick someone! But underneath the excitement and positivity of the whole situation, there is definitely a small little smidgen of panic and doubt. I am struggling to keep that smidgen as tiny as possible, and also to shove it out of my way. I am not listening to its little voice, taunting me and trying to deposit pockets of unease into my everyday thoughts. If I can avoid making eye contact, so to speak, then the tragedies and troubles it predicts will never come to pass.
I suppose this is normal for anyone making a big move. Even though you know it doesn't have to be, it feels like forever.
I've never been so far from my tribe. My people. My family. For 34 years, I have been within driving distance (and usually within 10 miles). It will be mighty strange to walk roads that are nowhere near where they physically reside. To see places they don't share. To speak in a language that isn't theirs. Ours.
In a way, it will be the first time in my life I have been a real adult. I dread it, and I can't wait. I'm exhilarated and afraid. I'm hopeful.
