A Leaf Turns Orange in the West —
In the chilly Midwestern November of 2020, I watched the ground zip past and fall away as the plane lifted off and pointed its nose toward Europe, my mask between my nose and the window.
As the clouds flowed into place, I looked over my shoulder, seeing people packed in shoulder-to-shoulder after months of living 6 feet apart, and more. My baby, just 3 months old, was in my arms, his hands clasping at my jacket, and in the seats next to me were my 2-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter. My husband was seated behind us as we prepared to make the 13-hour flight to our new home in Croatia.
While we were in the hospital, recuperating from the birth of our third child, my husband received a message neither of us expected: an irresistible job offer back in the country where he was born and raised. We had talked a couple of times about potentially moving there someday, or at the very least purchasing a vacation home, but the message made the conversation much more plausible.
I looked back at my husband behind me, who smiled at me and asked how our baby was. I smiled softly. In 3 short months, we had brought a baby into the world, let go of most of our possessions and packed the others, and organized all the paperwork we’d need to move our family of 5 to another country mid-pandemic.
