Today my husband and I looked at a space where we will probably hold our farewell reception in a month to say goodbye to our friends and colleagues in Brussels. In a month, my daughter will turn one. In a month, we will move out of the maison de maitre that has been home to us for the past three and a half years. In a month, I’ll move out of Europe and into the Middle East. In a month, I’ll wake up in the morning to a blue sky rather than a grey one. In a month, I’ll be craving my old friends here who, until just recently, were my new friends. In a month, I’ll be unpacking all that I’m packing up now. In a month, I’ll probably be crying just as I am now but for different reasons. I know this moving-around-bit will be the story of our lives but it doesn’t make it easier every time we do it. This is actually only the second time we’re moving — but it feels as if it will have a greater impact because 1) we have children and 2) we’re moving out of Europe.  I crave not-too-dangerous adventure so I’m ready for this next chapter. But I’m going to miss Brussels. Comfortable Brussels. It has been a milestone period for us since our second child, the lovely Sofia, was born here. And it will be a milestone chapter in Israel, too. I’m sad to go but I wish I could just push a button and be in Tel Aviv without having to pack or unpack. Yes, it’s a luxury problem but moving isn’t fun however you look at it.