“We’re home,” I whispered to my husband with an excited grin as our plane bounced and skidded on the runway at Dublin Airport. He smiled and groggily nodded, exhausted from our 6-hour red-eye flight.
This journey marked our third major move since we got engaged in 2013. The first two were cross-country (NYC to Seattle, Seattle to Boston) and with both relocations, it hit us pretty quickly that we were off to a new destination. But for whatever reason—even though we were moving to a new country, a new continent—reality wasn’t really sinking in this time. Not at all.
Maybe it was because we had a whirlwind last couple of weeks in the States that we can barely recall now. Perhaps it was the fact we retrieved our usual number of suitcases at baggage claim. But we felt like we arrived in Dublin for a vacation (or for Steve, more like a business trip). It didn’t even feel strange when the immigration officer asked us more questions than usual, requested to see our marriage certificate, and snapped our headshots before stamping our passports.
We viewed our first apartment eight hours after our plane landed. We signed a lease on our second full day here. We opened a bank account on the third. Nope, the move still didn’t feel real.
Maybe it will hit us when our belongings arrive from the States, or when we start paying our utility bills, or when we find it that much harder to keep in touch with family and friends because of the time difference. Because the truth is, for the next year, this is our home.
Featured photo: Our first meal upon arrival, full Irish breakfasts at Dublin Airport