…Well he is actually, but that Would spoil the cheesy link, but he is my brother.

I had a call from my brother on Friday to ask me to do some translating for him. As we talked I got the impression the translation stuff was just an excuse, I felt he just wanted to hear a friendly voice. He and his wife moved to Spain a couple of months ago and I’ve purposely taken a step back to give them some space to settle in and sort themselves out. During the call on Friday I asked him how they were *really*, and it was when he started going overboard with enthusiasm that I knew something was wrong. I said I’d call him back on Saturday with some thoughts on the translation we wanted, giving me some time to think things through.

Very early yesterday I called him and said I’d be over to pick them up and bring them up here for the weekend. He said all the “right” things about it being too much driving etc, but there was a spark in his voice which told me it was exactly what they’d like to do. So, it’s now Sunday evening and since I called him I’ve spent twelve hours driving and feel a bit beaten up, BUT I was right. After a few hours it all started to come out, they feel lonely and overwhelmed by the move. Anybody who has moved away from their family and friends will know the feeling, we’ve all been there. It’s an odd feeling, a bit like losing your history in the move. I think you reach a point where you need to say to somebody, “oh do you remember when…?” So that’s what we did. We spent yesterday afternoon strolling around the village aimlessly, chatting. Last night we spent hours sat at the kitchen table telling tales and eating great food (thanks Paul), but most importantly we laughed a lot.

It’s good to talk.