My Earthly goods are currently traveling somewhere in middle of the Indian Ocean and I'm sitting one final time at Changi airport terminal 1 waiting for the gate to open for boarding. During the past two weeks of packing, shipping, fixing, cleaning, farewelling and panicky tennis lessons I have kept asking myself the same question over and over again. Why on earth would I of my free will (or anybody else for that matter) want to go back to live in a country which is cold and gloomy 6 months a year? It comes as no surprise to the avid readers of this blog that I have utterly enjoyed living in this little red dot under the equator.
Every time I ponder upon this question I end up concluding two best reasons ever: One reason is 8 years old and the other one is 3 at the moment. I could have easily extended my Singapore adventure, but the family opted going back as per the original 2 year plan. I would never want to miss a single day of the life of my wonderful kids growing up and thus the decision making was painless in the end.
Even though the feeling of letting go weighs so very heavily on my shoulders right now, I was told that it's good to leave when you are still having fun. At least it makes me so much more anxious to be planning for another similar excursion in the future.
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