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Hard To Be an Expat, So Far Away at Christmas

Gracie — my five-year-old smiling granddaughter

Excuse me, but I’m a little down. I miss my son and granddaughter.  And my mother.

Spending Christmas far away wasn’t easy, even if we did have a lovely dinner with new friends.

The good part was seeing my little Gracie’s three-story dollhouse via Skype. She showed us every floor at various angles before we said goodbye to her upside down smiling face. I could see inside her nostrils, I told her. She giggled and the conversation ended.

Then I spoke to my 96-year-old mother on the phone as a friend was helping her install a new computer.

“I’ll message you on facebook,” she promised before our talk was over.

I grew up with my mother’s stories of our pioneer relatives who moved from the Carolinas to Oregon in the U.S.

“Think of how strong they were to start a new life,” she would tell me.
Now I see what she meant.
*****

P.S. I miss my sisters, too!