It was just before Christmas 2013 when my husband came home from work and said those immortal words: “They want me to move to Singapore.”
They being his company.
Me being all of us.
Having covered that part of the world for years it had always been a possibility – and one that I’d been secretly hoping for. We, as a family, had visited Singapore many times. Either accompanying my husband on a work trip and tagging a holiday on the end or as a stopover to Thailand or Oz.
We all loved the place.
Loved the smell of it, the feel of it, the amazing skyline. I even liked the ‘big brotherness’ of it. I’d often joked to my eldest Son that we’d move there some day.
But actually doing it… Now that was different.
My immediate reaction was yes, let’s do it. I’m a firm believer in you never regret the things you do, only the things you don’t. But then we got to thinking, and talking, and thinking some more.
What about our Son who was just doing his last year at senior school and was applying for college? What about our younger son, who by way of having an extra chromosome, meant things that upset his routine can be harder on him. And our daughter, who was happily settled at school with friends who lived close by? Could we really turn their world upside down? Then there were our families to think about.
Just the thought of telling my parents – who lived just around the corner and we see most days – made me break out in a cold sweat and fight back an avalanche of tears. My sisters? Would they be cross that I was leaving them or happy for me? And the dog. Oh My God the dog. I immediately welled up at the thought of leaving him. But, he’s a big dog. Could we take him? Would we be able to find a house to rent if we had a dog?
All of these questions and a whole load more were spinning around my head constantly for days.
Some of them – well, most of them – still are. Some we have answered, some we haven’t. But, deep down, we knew.
It was time for our new adventure…