The past year the Man told me and Daughter on a regular basis how happy he was with our current home. Even after a long period spending mostly within our home, the home still feels spacious. Daughter always agreed with him. She would never want to leave this house, she repeatedly said. Until today.

At some point during lunch today our home came up as a conversational topic. I told that I sometimes think about living elsewhere, but that I knew she and the Man wouldn’t want to leave this house. Or does she, I asked. Rather unexpectedly she explained she’d rather live in France. More questions from my side followed. Do you mean for a short period? Or for a holiday? Do you want to leave this house? Like, forever? And why France, and not Italy? Or Switzerland? Daughter’s response was that she’d really want to move France. Permanently. She’d seen enough of The Netherlands. Time to see something else. And she already knows some French words (bonjour, au revoir, non).

She explained it in a way that she was willing to pack all our things right at the spot and leave tomorrow. The only issue she saw was not to forget to tell her teacher that we’d moved. Of course the Man and I told her it wasn’t that easy to just move to another country. Yet, I feel her. We’ve been talking about travelling to other places in the past months. Later. When the virus no longer makes so many people ill. If you make me an offer to pack my bags for a few weeks, months, a year even, to any place but here, I’d take it.

Patience my dear, I told Daughter. We’ll be able to travel again soon. Moving to France is not my dreamed future, but spending holidays there in the coming years is definitely an option. Visiting other countries as well. And by the time she becomes an adult, she can decide for herself to move to anywhere. Even France.