Three and a half years ago, when I packed my belongings into four suitcases and moved to London, it meant accepting a certain distance between myself and my family.
It was a distance the five of us had already started to understand since one of my two sisters had made her home in Israel. I’d happily existed away from my home state of Colorado for years already, first in New York and then in Los Angeles.
But there’s a palpable undercurrent of anxiety that comes from relocating abroad and knowing that you’re an expensive 10-hour plane ride away from any emergency.My family and I are not the most affectionate bunch, something that my husband found odd when he was first introduced to my parents and sisters.
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