I never minded spending time on my own, I quite like it. It can be awkward sometimes but mostly because others are more bothered about it than I. When you live far away from your friends and family, when it’s still those early days and new friends are not abundant, then being on your own is inevitable. Especially when your husband works most days and hours. And I can’t sit around and wait for him everyday, although I know he loves the homecoming kisses and hugs. I have become what a dog is to its family.
I love to walk, although my back doesn’t quite agree. I walk around my neighbourhood and look for different cafés and restaurants that I can later take my husband to. I bring my iPod and listen to my favorite music, that usually warms me up. I look at the houses around me, I wonder who lives inside them and what they are like. I dream about buying a house, my own place, a home. I dream of being properly settled down, about my dream business. I dream. I observe. I reflect.
When I’m out there, I often wonder what life would have been like if I never moved to Portugal in the first place, back when I was only 10. Would I be living in São Paulo now or would I have stayed in Sweden? Would I have met my husband, or would I be married to someone else? It’s a strange feeling, yet a feeling that tells me I made the right choices.