Exploring new paths. What living abroad for a year taught me.
In July 2023 Roxanne Meilak Borg, a lawyer by profession, packed her life and her family and moved to the UK for a year. Now that she is back in Malta, she shares some thoughts about the enriching experience and reveals how this made her rethink the meaning of ‘home’… and rekindled her passion for words and writing.
It’s been a while since I sat down to write creatively, and in that while, we did a stint of living abroad and both my children grew several inches taller.
The practicalities of moving country with a one-year-old and a three-year-old, settling into a routine abroad, moving back to Malta and settling into a routine here (whilst also holding up a job outside the house) has meant no time to write – or to even think about writing - for fun.
But the waves have begun to settle, and the words that have been waiting patiently to be put to paper these past months are now clamouring for my attention.
In July of 2023, my husband and our two young sons moved to Oxford, in the UK, for work purposes. It poured for the whole of that first month, and every day, our elder son asked us when we would be returning to Malta.
September was the sunniest month of the year. We made hay while the sun shined, exploring nearby parks in the afternoons and going on weekend trips whenever we could. My elder started pre-school, and I took my younger son to a different playgroup every day.
The holiday feeling soon wore off. When autumn came, the leaves fell overnight. One day, the trees in the park opposite our house painted a picture-perfect scene in hues of orange, yellow and red: the next, they stood fully exposed to a crisp, November sky.
“Where did all the leaves go?” asked my elder son, huddled in his coat, as we rushed to school. In the UK, summer does not last until Christmas time. The colours of autumn, and the way autumn slipped quietly into winter was new to us: so, indeed, were the cold, grey days.
I chatted to my friends on WhatsApp and Instagram every other day. They wanted to know all about living abroad. “We often think about moving,” many of them said.
The trees were bare for months. When winter came in earnest, it snowed. It wasn’t a postcard: it was freezing. Daylight became the scarcest resource.
“Put it in context,” said a newly-found (now dear) friend. She is Maltese too: she knew exactly how I felt. “The snowdrops and daffodils of spring will be here soon.” Still – and to my husband’s amusement – I put a lampshade in every corner of the house.
My sons and I baked a different treat every week. In fact, we baked two different treats every week: one at our weekly cooking class, and one at home, at the weekend. We visited the library regularly: it was one of our happy places.
We ventured out on adventures, whatever the weather. We learned to walk in the rain. We played in parks. We hiked in forests. We even climbed a (small) mountain on a trip to Wales. I thought longingly of winter walks in Malta, of all the places I love here.
“We ventured out on adventures, whatever the weather. We learned to walk in the rain. We played in parks. We hiked in forests…
…we learned new ways of doing things, new ways of living.”
When our families visited, we relished the time we had with them, and we cried when they left, thinking how wonderful it is to have a village; what a blessing it is to see loved ones often; how often we take it for granted.
We celebrated my elder’s fourth birthday and my younger’s second. They grew and we grew. We grew individually and as a family. We learned new ways of doing things, new ways of living. We met many different people: some who fled their countries and could not return, others who haven’t seen their families back home in years because it was too expensive for them to visit.
The promised snowdrops made an appearance, even in the garden of our rented house, and dusk began to fall at half past five in the evening. Spring came quicker than I thought it would, and then was gone, leaving the trees in full bloom once again.
“Daily life catches up with you, wherever you are. The grass is always greener on the other side. One need not do something as drastic as move abroad: there is value in staying put, in seeing what you have and where you are with new eyes.”
When summer arrived, it was time to think about moving back. Heartbroken, we said goodbye to friends we had so grown to love, and returned home, to more love, family, sun and the beautiful Mediterranean.
In her book about finding joy in the ordinary, Catherine Gray writes an ode to ‘not emigrating.’ I know what she means.
Daily life catches up with you, wherever you are. The grass is always greener on the other side. One need not do something as drastic as move abroad: there is value in staying put, in seeing what you have and where you are with new eyes.
But I count my blessings. With all its ups and downs, living abroad has been a most enriching experience: one I will forever be grateful for (and surely, have more to write about).
You can follow Roxanne and her writing here.
