When I find myself in times of trouble...

I see fields of sunflowers

Let me cut to the chase. 

These last few weeks have been tough, not only because Charlie (my dachshund) was injured, but because I am a master at biting off a bit more than I can chew. Nevermind that our house is about to go on the market and we’ve made the decision to move to France. Plus, who needs sleep when you can either think about all the things that could potentially go wrong or ponder the next day’s (extensive) to-do list. 

My weekends are spent cleaning, getting rid of clutter and packing up boxes of clothes and household items to donate to the second-hand shop. It’s not a pleasant task. There are times when looking through old stuff can get quite difficult. These past months, I’ve come across bits and pieces of the last 25 years. Old love letters, baby pictures of my daughter, toys, diaries detailing wonderful (and ‘not-so-wonderful’) moments, notebooks from my university days (yes, I’ve kept them for more than two decades, but now they’re being recycled) and important documents one often forgets about. Like my naturalization papers – it’s been seventeen years since I became Dutch (the same amount of time I lived in the United States). 

Despite the incredible desire (well, conviction is actually a better word) to move to France, I have moments when it all feels overwhelming. Earlier this week, I was out on my morning walk and decided to mentally wave goodbye to all the places that hold memories. I walked past my first house (where my daughter was born and where I learned to cook), past her elementary school and the playgrounds where we spent so much time. I could almost see myself sitting on a bench (no longer there) and doing Dutch crossword puzzles to improve my language skills as she endlessly played on the slide (also gone). I walked along a tree-lined path and saw her running behind our husky Meiki (she crossed Rainbow Bridge in 2010) on one of our afternoon walks. Those were definitely the days.

At a certain point, tears welled up in my eyes and I asked for guidance from above. A second later, I turned my head and noticed a bumper sticker that read: ‘One life. Live it.’ Then I turned a corner and spotted a field of sunflowers. Scrawny sunflowers, nothing like the ones you see in southwest France, but sunflowers, nonetheless. Sunflowers mean a lot to me. Before I even set foot in southwest France, my husband (back then my boyfriend) sent me postcards with sunflowers. I also carried sunflowers at my wedding.

And then yesterday, I got an email from an estate agent I met during our last house-hunting trip to tell us about a house that was up for sale. Not just any house, but one which I have often admired and even fantasized about. I was planning on heading south again in the fall, but if the stars really align, I may be there very soon.

Could we get lucky this time?

Before signing off, in tomorrow’s exclusive newsletter, we’ll be discussing a painting by forgotten artist Louise Abbéma. Unfortunately, even to this day, many women artists have not fully received the recognition they so much deserve. Though they may have been successful during their time, their canvases – and lives – have faded into oblivion.

Additionally, I’ll be sharing another French dessert recipe, a classic in France and chez nous! 

See you tomorrow! I will keep you posted about the house in an exclusive post as soon as I know more.