It's Me, Sara Louise

And I get it, people are curious. Heaven knows if one of my friends dropped a bombshell like that on me I’d be all up in their kool-aid, questions coming out of me a mile a minute. So I thought I’d do my best to answer right here (this way the next time somebody asks me I can direct them to w w w dot Sara in Le Petit Village dot com). 

From the time I first moved to France, Gregory and I haven’t felt settled. It’s not that we don’t love living in Provence, trust me, we do, it’s just that we haven’t felt like it’s where we were meant to be. That’s one of the reasons we left the original Le Petit Village, we were trying to burrow down and find a comfy spot, but alas, the new Le Petit Village wasn’t it (sooooo not it).  We wanted to blossom and grow and with everyday that passed, we knew more and more that in order for us to do that, we had to move, like really move. 

We toyed with the idea of moving to Paris or to London. We even thought about moving back to Dublin. (Remember my ‘surprise birthday trip’ to Dublin last year? That was actually a ‘surprise, you have a job interview in two days trip’… it ended up being between me and one other guy for the position and as much as I would have loved that job because it was perfect for me, I was kind of relieved I didn’t get it, I wasn’t really ‘feeling’ a move back to Dublin). But when it came down to it, Paris, London and Dublin didn’t feel right. 

Talk of a move to the U.S. was floating about but I never let it be more than a poof of an idea. Truth be told, I wasn’t ready. Gregory was, but I wasn’t. After living in Europe for such a long time, I didn’t think I was ready to ‘go home’. Partly because I knew what a daunting task an overseas move was. The last time I did it it was stressful enough and that was without a houseful of stuff, a husband and a dog. Plus, if I moved back, what would be the chance I’d move back out again? Slim to none I’d say. And besides all that, where in the U.S. would we go? I couldn’t see me back in Poughkeepsie, and Texas didn’t seem to fit either… maybe Austin but still, Texas didn’t seem like the best fit for Gregory. 

But then last summer something happened… I was chatting with my sister (as we do on Skype every Wednesday), and I was kind of using her as a sounding board; venting out frustrations and confusions and general cluelessness when suddenly it became clear… we should move to the Berkshires. And that’s when a plan quickly began to materialize and fall into place (as one generally does when you’re on the right path). 

The Berkshires were the answer. It’s a good fit for us; it’s only an hour from where I grew up in New York and where loads of my friends still are, two hours from Boston (the city of Gregory’s and my mini-moon), less than two and a half hours from NYC (the city of my birth) and sort of halfway in the middle between Ireland/ France and Texas. Plus it’s beautiful and kind of quirky which should help us settle right in since Le Petit Village is also beautiful and quirky. We’ll feel right at home. 

It’s also a place that tugs at my heartstrings and wraps me up in warm, fuzzy memories. It’s where we got married (in the very same church my great-grandparents were married in), where many wonderful childhood memories spending time with my Nana and Pop-Pop were made, and it’s where my grandmother’s family have lived for generations and since she was Native American, I’m talking GENERATIONS GENERATIONS. So in a sense, going back to the Berkshires is really going home for me. And after ten years in Europe, I’m finally ready.
(That doesn’t mean I’m not still freaking out because trust me, I’m freaking out.)