Going tomorrow.
This is the city I was born in. My two childhood homes and one "own" home - my haven from the divorce, shared only by my children -, the locations of my first memories, my school, the place where a boy first kissed me, the park where my sons used to play in, are all within half an hour's walk.
My husband and my new home are on the other side of the globe.
It sucks.
One can learn a lot by living abroad. One can "broaden one's mind", cliché though it is. One can have fabulous experiences. But if you want to minimise your inevitable pain quotient in life, do not spread your life in several countries. It hurts.
This city is more layered, for me, than any other city can ever be, and for all its shortcomings, quirks, its depressingly long winters (November! April!) I love it. It is mine.
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