The Road Not Taken
In 2007, before we moved to Boston, my DH was interviewed and in negotiations with a company based in Nice, France. Located on the French Riviera, it’s a world class destination within spitting distance of both Cannes and Monte Carlo . Aside from the local attractions, we’d have been close enough to drive to Rome for a weekend, catch a train to Paris, or sail to Malta.
The possibilites were dazzling.
And daunting. While we’d both taken French in high school, neither of us was fluent. But what better way to learn a language than to be immersed in it, sink or swim?
The French immigration process was described as convoluted and bewildering, so we’d have tons of bureaucratic nonsense to plough. It helped that I wouldn’t be seeking a job there. I can write anywhere I have my laptop, but still, we’d have oceans of red tape to swim through.
We’ve always enjoyed visiting other countries, but how would we feel about being ex-pats? We’d always be “the Americans” to our French neighbors and perhaps not viewed kindly. If there was an increase in terrorism in Europe, displaced Americans and places they frequent would likely be targets.
We wondered if this adventure was more than we were ready to tackle.
Then a company from Boston made my DH a job offer. We didn’t hesitate. Boston is a wonderful city and a worthy adventure for a couple Midwesterners like us. We’d get enough sense of “other-ness” from New England to satisfy our wanderlust and enough comfort from still being in the States to feel at home. In so many ways, it has proved to be the correct choice.
But sometimes, I think about France…
How about you? Do you have a decision that you look back on as a crossroads of sorts and wonder “what if”? What if I’d taken that job? Gone to that school? Married that man? Finished that manuscript?
The choices we make form the warp and weft of our lives. One choice builds on another. I’d love it if you share one of yours here.