What If

Twelve years ago yesterday my mum, Ronnie (my younger brother), and I bordered a plane that would take us on an unprecendented adventure, that continues to evolve today.

Sunday July 23rd 1995. When I recollect the day I wonder if I what I am remembering is accurate, or if over time I've lost the negative of the day and the days leading up to our imminent departure. We left early, I do remember that and we drove on the M25 and there were hardly any cars on the road, and we sat in Penny's van with suitcases all around us, the dog in the footwell, and we gave one last look down Nares Road and bid farewell as we travelled to Heathrow Airport.

Destination: San Jose, California via Los Angeles.

Purpose: To join my dad and older brother (David), with the intent of relocation for my dad's job.

Friday July 21st 1995 was mine and Ronnie's last day of school, last day of schooling in England, Saturday was a friend's party, and that night my mum finished the last minute packing, and final preparations for getting the house ready to rent. Ronnie was sick, running a high fever and hallucinating. No beds, no furniture, just some sheets cushioned our sleep that night.

I don't remember the actual flight, nor do I think I cried at that point. I remember waving good bye to those gathered at the "gate" and walking with my mum and Ronnie. I remember my mum sleeping most of the flight. I vividly remember arriving in Los Angeles - and having to collect six LARGE suitcases, plus a dog in a travel crate, and going through customs. EDITED. From Los Angeles into San Francisco where my dad waited with purple flowers in hand - a memory that I am not sure if I remember, or if because of the numerous retellings it has become a memory.

And now 12 years later, my official half and half. I've been here in the United States half my life. I spent my childhood in the sanctuary of England, and the rest in the whirlwind of California.

I few weeks ago an old friend from England posed the question "Do you ever wonder 'what if' - what if you hadn't moved...?" I thought about it before answering, and honestly I don't wonder "what if" at least not consistently. There are times where I wonder what paths each one of my family would have walked had we not moved, I wonder at the life that I've lived to date, and wonder if it is shaped by who I am, or shaped by where I am. I think to a degree - both.

All I now know is that you can't know where you'll be in 12 years time...who knows in 12 years from now I may be writing from England again, or somewhere more exotic.

I think of the promise in Jeremiah where God promises a plan for our lives, a plan of hope, a plan to not harm us, a plan for prosperity. In all my musings of 'what if' I know that the move, the to date the most pivotal point of my life, was one of hope and prosperity and one not of harm...

Here's to another 12 years, wherever they may lead.

Picture: Ronnie (looking sick), Ellie, Stephanie, and Becky (sisters and good family friends). The morning of "the move" at Heathrow Airport.