Yesterday, as I was chatting with Bernard Feeser, a former high-school mate, he asked me how I was coping with living in America along with its culture and if returning to France wasn't an option I had considered. A deep and very relevant question. I tried to answer it the best I could, but wasn't quite satisfied with what I might have told him, because I had never really thought through that whole idea. All started when, a long time ago, I had almost unconsciously made two commitments to myself; first, I was going to have a career that I would be passionate about and second, that I would live in a place I'd love.
From the get go, I knew I that the pieces of that puzzle wouldn't fall in place at once. There would be some patience required and I would have to jump through a series of hoops before I would have it tailor-made for me. My long-term goals were pretty simple; I wanted to take a shot at living in America and wanted to establish myself in “the best part of the Rockies” as I then phrased it.
While today is picture-perfect, there were challenges and pains along the way plus, I must add, quite a bit of good luck. I finally got what I wanted. Today, with all my family in America, my French culture still inside a corner of my head and easy access to the old continent thanks to the miracle of modern communications, what else more would I want?
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