Much of the time, I forget that we're in America. The rituals of daily life here have become as normal to me as the routines I had in Australia. The little differences that once seemed more glaring are now barely noticeable...
...and then something will happen that stops me in my tracks - reminding me that yes, we're on American soil now, and we have been for a while. Living life with unmistakably American touches.
The most recent of these moments was when I collected the Faery from school the other day.
She'd been strawberry-picking on a 'field trip' (my internal monologue will forever say 'excursion').
On a yellow school bus. My daughter, riding yellow school buses for 'field trips'. Childhood doesn't get much more American than that, right?
Moments of realisation like this begin as though I'm watching scenes unfold from someone else's (American) home videos, and then it dawns on me that this is our reality for now. Our photo albums include shots of palm tree-lined boulevardes, wintery Christmases, s'mores being assembled over campfires, squirrels, Halloween festivities... and yellow school buses.