Why? Simply because I don’t feel so comfortable with re-adapting to new situations anymore. No, I don’t mean changing the daily schedule, but moving out and in – flat, town, country, life.
Within two and half years I’ve got used to the thought that we will reside in Britain for given period of time (three years) and than we will move on to different country and start over somewhere else. Eventually, I will be the one starting over, as for hubby it is just moving back home. But that’s not the issue.
As the period of time is almost over (ok, ok, I know I’m freaking out prematurely, it is still few months), my mind randomly wanders to the ends “what will – if will – what if – how to – whyyyyy?” related to moving outta Britain and getting settled in Kuwait. I’ve got, during the time, quite used to that idea though, and my mind have just locked onto it, not much willing to go off the set up route anymore. Not like I really find peace and safety in this moving – it really, widly scares the heck outta me. But, in spite of my stubborn tries never to plan anything or it will get destroyed / smacked down / lifted up and shattered into tiny bitsy pieces, my mind’ve got into those small planning steps such as: I wanna have a pool in the house or I wanna have this or that over there, and generally I’ve just got comfortable with the fact that this is the inevitable future and it’s better to get along than to try to fight the unknown. Right?
To add some spice to the life Abood came recently home suggesting he will try to get his PhD. (which I supposse as a good idea), and that might be in Australia. “Australia?!!” – came to my mind, numbing the feeling in my fingers and stopping my brain full of swimming pools and creamy walls of the kuwaiti house we don’t have yet and won’t have for quite some time even if we get to the desert right now; “Australia!”, the completely other end of the world, winter in summer and summer in winter, new people, new town, new life, new adapting? “God, no way!” – that all has been going through my empty head (at the time full of these thoughts). Hubby, probably feeling the overwhelming wave of pure panic eating me inside out, have replied quite promptly: “Or maybe here in Britain,” and it actually have stopped the urge to run around screaming absurdly till my body and lungs go numb; but the soothing power of the word Britain – something familiar, something I’m quite wont to cooperate with and live in, vaporized in few hours and than only one thought kept on repeating in my head – 3 years, new 3 years, I’ll be 28 by than, where’s that Abbas thing and the house and moving and getting used to desert and stuff like that? Where’d it all go?