Somehow, it’s been a month since we left France and returned to our home in Virginia. These weeks have had a strange, dream-like quality to them — probably in large part due to the severe jet lag, and in part because of the jarring experience of being thrust right back into our old lives after nearly a year in France.
The journey home was long but fairly smooth. I was most stressed about the train from Bordeaux to Paris because of the excess luggage we were toting: six very heavy suitcases and three bulky backpacks. But we made it to Montparnasse with only a couple of minor panic attacks, then spent a few days enjoying autumn in Paris (which was superbe!). On the morning of our departure, I booked a G7 cab to take us from our Airbnb to the airport. (I highly recommend this if you have a lot of luggage and/or don’t want to mess with public transportation, which can be super stressful if you have travel anxiety, like me.) We watched movies, read, and napped through the nearly eight-hour flight to Boston.
I felt joyful as our plane touched down on American soil. I teared up as we passed under an American flag entering the airport, and again as a customs official greeted us warmly and made small talk in his thick Boston accent. We rechecked our luggage for the final leg of the journey, then I bought a massive Dunkin’ iced coffee and allowed Oli to pick out an excessive amount of American snacks. A long layover and quick flight later, we were touching down in Richmond, tearfully hugging Todd’s parents who were waiting at the gate. Then it was just a short drive to our home, which looked almost exactly how we’d left it.
We were all up at 3 a.m. the next morning, and the next few after that. The jet lag was more severe than I’ve ever experienced, and I spent those first few days in an exhausted daze. Still, I felt euphoric as we reunited with family, friends, and our pets. I unpacked our bags and boxes at record speed. We celebrated birthdays and ate piles of Mexican food, frolicked through Target and threw a big Halloween party. We gathered with our neighbors at the playground and introduced the kids to French candy. (They loved it!) And then we crashed, comfortably, during a few quiet weekends when we did little more than watch movies, read books, and snuggle with our sweet dog and cat.
Some people warned me that I would have a difficult time readjusting to life at home. That I’d experience reverse culture shocks and find that life went on without us, that we couldn’t return to the life that we’d known before. I’m happy to report that they were wrong — our return has been predictable, seamless, and comfortable. The only thing that has been slightly jarring is the noise, particularly in restaurants — loud music and loud diners, such a stark contrast to typically serene French restaurants. But it’s such a relief not to have to shush my family, worry that we’re laughing too loud and getting the side-eye from fellow diners.
One thing that has been unpleasant is the money we’ve had to spend as we’ve settled back in. We’ve had to sign up for healthcare, and we’ll be spending more in a couple of months than we paid for a year of good French insurance. We had to buy a car, because it’s nearly impossible to live without one here. And we’ve had to adjust to once again adding 20 percent to every restaurant bill for tips. In general, I’ve found there’s just a lot more temptation to spend here. Amazon is far too easy to use, with a much broader selection than we had in France and many things available with one-day or even same-day shipping. The grocery stores are packed to the brim with endless options, and there always seem to be sales happening at my favorite stores.
What about the election? Some have suggested that we are crazy for returning at such a tumultuous time. In fact, I wanted to be home for it, to cast my vote in person for Kamala Harris. To be with my American friends and family as we awaited the results. I may not agree with the politics of a large swath of this country, but I love being reminded that there are many, many people who share the same values as I do. And that’s clear as we walked around our city and saw endless Harris-Walz signs — this is not Trump country.
I won’t lie: The election results felt devastating. But I was actually happy to be home after election day, sharing that disappointment with our family and friends. Digging deep to uncover some hope, and finding it within our community, where we have the privilege of a life that will continue on much as it always has.
As we processed the news the morning after the election, we took a walk around our neighborhood, soaking in the vibrant fall colors as Oli rode his scooter through piles of crispy leaves. We picked up breakfast bagels and iced coffee at a favorite cafe and picnicked on a bench under an ancient oak tree at our local art museum. Later on, we sipped wine and had quiet conversations on the porch with friends, and had family over for a Thai takeout feast, talking about anything but the election. Right now, it helps to focus on what really matters — on WHO matters — and why we moved back. It wasn’t for the politics, or the healthcare, or the progressive gun policies. We moved back for our people, and because this is our home, for better or for worse.
I do miss it, sometimes, the life we had there. I look through photos almost as if I’m looking at someone else’s life. Did we really do all of that? Were we really living in France just a few short weeks ago? We had a whole life there, where Todd biked Oli to his little French school every morning, and we bought fresh baguettes and pastries nearly every day. We did our grocery shopping at Carrefour, rode the tram around town, and spoke French all day, every day. These memories are happy ones, but they’re still tinged by the discontent I felt living there.
A friend recently asked me, was life really better in France? I look at what’s happening among our leadership, at the road ahead for the U.S., and I’ve never felt more confident saying that France is far more progressive and evolved in so many ways. It’s a country that takes care of its people, where it’s very easy to live a good, well-balanced life. Looking at the big picture issues — healthcare, education, women’s rights, safety, work-life balance — France has the U.S. beat.
But everyday life is sometimes more about the small-picture stuff. Neighbors gathering on the front porch and kids playing football at the park, meeting a good friend for a long walk, and taking morning coffee in the backyard with the squirrels scurrying through the trees overhead. From far away, it’s easy to imagine that the United States is one big dumpster fire right now. It can certainly feel that way, if you focus on the headlines. For now, I’m actively choosing not to, instead finding joy in this simple American life that I love.