I said a word the way I’ve said it my whole life, and one of my kids corrected me. Not in a cheeky way, not even in a funny way. Just naturally. Instinctively. “That’s not how you say it.”
I laughed it off at the time, but later it stayed with me. Because in that small, almost insignificant moment, I realised something had shifted.
We arrived in the U.S. 3 and a half years ago, and somewhere along the way, my children stopped being visitors here and started belonging. Their accents have softened. Their references are different. They understand things I still have to think about. They move through this life with an ease that I’m still working towards.
And I find myself sitting in this strange, emotional space. I am so proud of who they are becoming, and at the same time, quietly aware that they are becoming something I’m not. I didn’t expect that part. I didn’t expect how quickly they would adapt, or how naturally this place would become home for them.
And if I’m honest, there are moments where I miss the way they were. The familiar rhythm of how they spoke. The version of them that only existed in that other life.
But this is what we wanted, wasn’t it? A bigger world. More opportunity. A life that stretched them. And it has.
Sometimes I think this journey isn’t just about building a new life. It’s about watching your children grow into one, in their own way, on their own terms.
Even if, every now and then, they remind you that you don’t quite say things the same way anymore.
