Like it or not, we have to leave Jordan this summer. The job I am in now is only two years. No option to extend. They left out that part when I signed up for the job. In fact, they’ve recently hired my replacement, so we really must go.
Elise has been training like mad for her first triathlon in two short weeks from now. She is ready. Even if she doesn’t think she is. She will toe the starting line on the edge of the Red Sea just a few days before we may hear where we will move to this summer.
For some reason — I’m not exactly sure why — this bid season has been particularly gut-wrenching and especially stressful. The list was very good, and we could easily imagine ourselves on any one of the four corners of the globe. We started researching and reaching out earlier than last time; that, in part, has made this time around very long. We’re just ready for it to be over.
We talked over all the possibilities with the kids. They have been more involved (and curious) than ever. They’re no longer tiny babies in bucket seats we sling over our shoulder and head out. Nor are they quite the petulant teenagers we have heard about, filing ardent protests of having to move and leave friends, boyfriends, and girlfriends. They are excited by the move. Like Elise and I, they are thriving in this lifestyle.
We submit our final list this Friday and may hear something by the end of October. The last two times Elise and I have bid, we reached the end and still didn’t know where we were going. I am hopeful that is not the case this time around.
Or, as they say in Arabic, inshallah.
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