Uncharted Thoughts.

AI FREE ZONE

“Home is where the heart is”

Three years ago this November, I met the most incredible woman. She came to me at a time I was in this strange in-between, they often say that you’ll meet the person of your dreams when you least expect it, and for me that was true.

I worked in a Hotel in the Lake District, away from friends and family. I was there because I didn’t really have anyone in my home town anymore. My mum and dad, who I treasure greatly, and a friend or two who would pop up once every two or three months.

People had moved on with their lives, having kids, buying houses, and focusing on careers. I wasn’t angry about it, I was sad and often felt pushed to one side.

I was about to leave the job, after some four months, due to the gross misconduct of the management staff. I handing in my notice to the boss, and had about a week left before I had to leave the accommodation. I was looking for new work in the area, but honestly, I was at wits end.

Then, one day I was walking through the accommodation block and I saw a beautiful girl walking towards me from the other end. I knew we had a new hire, and that people were talking about her positively, but I had no idea that this small meeting would change my life forever.

I found out the department she worked in, and rushed to see if there were any vacancies. There was, and I took it.

Fast forward two years and a half, we are engaged and ready to move onto the next part of out adventure.

She is from Canada, and I am from the UK, and now it is my time to move.

The sacrifice of leaving the UK is small. My patience has run out with its inability to proceed forward, fix small matters and the loathsome government that has transfixed itself on the destruction of everything we care so much about. It’s a dead state, one that will continue to drift through history like a spinning astronaut that failed a moon walk.

It’s the people, and the land itself that will be missed. Say whatever you like about the Brits, we are a special breed, and the land we walk on is by all intensive purpose the ‘Shire. Lush green pastures, and farmland that stretched across a island of pubs and small humble animals.

For the first time ever it has come to my attention that my days with my parents are now numbered. It’s not that they are particularly old, or that they are in poor health, instead my life will take me so far away that I can not simply pop over and visit.

I’ve been in and out of my family home like a yoyo, coming and going as I please. I think since leaving my family home at 24, up until now, 31, I have been back 5 maybe 6 times. These are memories I will forever cherish, and although I roll my eyes in disbelief at my parents often, I am lucky to have lived with them for so long.

If I was to visit home once a year, every year for the next twenty years I will only see my parents, in person, twenty more times. In the financial times we live in, and with plans to buy a home, settle down and start a family, I fear that twenty is a liberal number of visits, and they are no longer spring chickens.

It is a shame that the last months of my time here in the UK have been shaped by late night bar work. That I wake up at midday, lounge around in my bedroom due to exhaustion and fatigue, that I have been unable to truly spend these precious moments with them, alas, beggars can not be choosers in times like these.

I wonder what the future holds for me? should I ever return to the UK? or is this the final pages in this chapter? Will my mother ever forgive me for my absence? and will my father stand strong for her?