It’s been nearly two years since we left California and moved over 5,000 miles away to a small village in France.
When we first made the decision, there was a lingering fear beneath all the excitement: Would this mean the kids would grow up barely knowing their grandparents? I imagined birthdays over blurry FaceTime, holidays without family, and a low-grade guilt about it all.
But now, after ten days of having my dad here, watching him with the kids, I realize the truth is far more beautiful than I expected.
Instead of quick weekend drop-ins and rushed dinners squeezed between LA traffic and bedtime, we now get real time with the people we love. When family comes to visit here in France, they’re not just popping by - they’re staying for a proper visit. It’s an experience. A vacation. It’s not “Let’s have lunch and then back to work,” it’s “Let’s wander the markets, pick strawberries, tell stories, linger over dinner, and let the kids read one more story before bed.
During this visit, I’ve watched my dad teach my kids how to ride a bike, play soccer, draw animals, ride horses, and even master wood burning. But one of the best parts? I’m still learning from him, too. Having this extended time together has given me the chance to truly see my dad in action - not just as a grandparent, but as a master of quiet, effective parenting. These are the kinds of skills and moments that no book can fully capture. I’ve been deeply inspired, often in awe, of the way he connects with the kids, guiding them with patience, creativity, and a sense of wonder that I’ll be carrying with me long after he leaves.
And here’s the twist: we used to live just an hour from my dad in California. But anyone who’s navigated LA traffic knows that an hour on the map might as well be another country. Now, across the Atlantic, my kids are spending more quality time with their grandpa than they did when we were practically neighbors. It’s not just visiting, it’s living together for a little while. It’s almost poetic, but let’s not get too carried away!
And when friends come, it’s the same. They step into this slower way of life with us - wandering through old villages, tasting the local cuisine, or sitting quietly under the cherry tree, catching up on all things great and small. We get to share this life, not just tell them about it.
Moving far from family didn’t mean we lost them. It meant we created a space where the time we do have together is more intentional, more immersive, more memorable.
And that, I’ve come to realize, is a kind of magic all its own.
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À bientôt,
Kamille
A note for new readers: we’re an American family living in rural France, restoring a small château, and writing it all down here.