FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN

You can't get something for nothing.

With the distance, we necessarily experience things that are different from what the people we love who have stayed in France may experience. How to share exactly what I discover, what I feel.

It's like when I take a photograph. I see a breathtaking landscape with incredible colours. I take a picture with my mobile phone and I look at what it looks like; big disappointment. I'm not a professional photographer and I don't have a great camera because for me a phone is mainly used to communicate. It's frustrating not to be able to share as we want. Between what I send, what gets through, what gets received and who receives it, there are too many changes. Arrrgh! I still haven't managed to convey to the people I love how much I love them, how much they occupy my thoughts, that I don't forget them.

I feel more intensely what the distance I have chosen implies in the links with those I cherish at this moment.

This weekend, in France, there was a big reunion with my grandson. My daughter, her boyfriend, my sister and my brother-in-law are travelling 700 km, my nephew and his girlfriend 850 km, my parents 630 km and my niece who is studying in Madrid. All this to meet my treasure and to be with my daughter. When I heard that my nephew was organising these two days, I was so touched that I shed a tear (my last one keeps telling me to stop overreacting to situations). I am so happy to know that despite the daily life of everyone, everyone made an effort for people who mean so much to me. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

This morning when I wake up, a ritual at the beginning of the day, I look to see if I have any messages from a member of my family. I come across photos and videos of my daughter-mother (thank you big girl for involving us). I see my eighty-two year old daddy holding my grandson who in turn does not leave his sight. A big rush of emotion that tightens my chest and my throat. I also look at my second daughter who, like an accomplished aunt, marvels at the little noises made by her nephew during his sleep.

My last daughter, who lives with me, admits to feeling the same flood of feelings. 

I am fundamentally happy with the choices I have made over the last four and a half years. I want to get out of my comfort zone, to say to myself that all opportunities are waiting for me. But to be honest, at times like this weekend I dream of teleporting to the middle of the party of people I love who are too far away.

It seems that everything has a cost. When we get something, we have to be prepared to pay the price. I have to be resilient like the Balinese. I want to have everything but I have to wait until I can afford it. I have to work, I have to give it a go. Then I can say to my mother: "You see, Mum, it's not true that you can't have everything in life. All I want is for my dreams to come true and to have the love of my family that blossoms in billions of shared moments.

As time goes by, I can see the outline of where I want to go. It's very motivating.