A Note on Leaving New York

June 18--From on board the Queen Mary 2

We've been at sea now for about two hours and the buildings of New York City can still be seen in the distance.  They are so far away now that they appear almost as grey shadows against the evening sky.  Leaving a country by ship is so much more gradual than it is in a plane.  In a plane you see the land receding away from you, getting smaller so quickly that if you blink you literally miss it, but on a ship it takes hours.  It's almost as if you are being pulled away from it--not necessarily kicking and screaming, but I am certainly feeling much more reflective about what I am leaving.

We are moving to Portugal, where none of us has ever lived before and where none of us speak the language.  My son will go to a Waldorf school and I will learn Portuguese and figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  My husband is about to fulfill his dream of living on a sailboat.  I am excited but also sad--sad to be leaving my family and friends but thrilled at the prospect of a new adventure.

As the skyline of New York fades into the distance and Europe comes ever-so-slowly closer, it seems like a cliche to say that I'm at a sort of figurative border crossing in my life, but it's true,  Fortunately I've got the week on board the Queen Mary 2 to at least try to come to terms with it.