One year ago, my husband left his 18-year teaching career behind, we sold our house, got rid of 95% of our belongings, and moved our family from Connecticut to Madrid.
These days, we live in a small flat with our 7 and 10-year-old boys. We don’t own a car. We’re learning Spanish one day at a time.
On paper, that much upheaval could’ve broken us. Instead, it’s brought us closer than ever.
We were coexisting, not connecting
Back in the US, my husband Jeff and I were coexisting more than connecting. Most conversations revolved around logistics: who was taking which kid to which activity, what meeting we needed to attend, and what to make for dinner.
By the time the boys were in bed, we were too spent to connect meaningfully. We’d sit beside one another, exhausted, on our phones or trying to watch a movie we never finished because one of us always fell asleep.
I never imagined that would be our marriage. Yet, there we were.
Moving to Spain made us reevaluate things
Here in Spain, we’re still busy. Arguably busier.
We spend about three hours a day getting the kids to and from school via train and bus. But we’re also spending far more time together than before — and it’s given us more opportunities to connect beyond logistics.
Part of what’s driven this connection, too, is watching the locals go about their day around us.
“Busy” doesn’t mean the same thing here as it does in the US. It’s not a reason to delay the connection. People stop for each other mid-errand, midday, without apologizing. They make the time.
We started doing the same.
Stopping for an unplanned coffee or a caña. Exploring a new neighborhood hand-in-hand just because. Taking a few extra minutes for us instead of rushing on to the to-do. It’s made more of a difference than I expected.
You don’t have to move abroad to do this, of course. You just have to decide that the list can wait.
Going through the unknown together
It’s just the four of us now. We need each other in a way we didn’t before (and that’s not automatically a good thing). Being each other’s only support can bring out the best in a marriage, or the worst.
This past year tested us more than once. Jeff spent months in a 600-hour language course, while simultaneously trying to find work and switch off his student visa before it expired.
Between the exhaustion of full-time language study and the pressure of a ticking clock, it would have been easy for that stress to become tension between us. And some days, it did. Navigating new rules, a new language, and a hundred small unknowns daily—it’s hard. I won’t pretend it’s not.
But we kept showing up for each other anyway, and we came out stronger.
A weekly ritual that’s helped
One thing that’s anchored us through this new chapter is a practice we started years ago in the US.
After our second son was born, I created a marriage meeting journal. We’d answer 10 questions together and document the answers.
Questions like:
What’s something your partner did last week that made your life easier?
What support do you need this week? Are there any goals or commitments you could use your partner’s help with?
Is there something in our relationship or home that needs attention?
How will we connect as a couple this week?
It’s nothing fancy, but it’s an hour that keeps us sailing in the same direction — even more important now that we’re living abroad.
We still do it most Sunday mornings. And while it was technically my idea, Jeff loves it as much as I do. If we let it slide, he points it out.
You don’t need to do it weekly or answer all 10. You could start tonight, with one question.
After the move, we also started something new: short day-dates.
After Jeff’s last class of the week, we’d meet up for a drink, lunch, and a rose garden stroll. Nothing grand, and sometimes, it costs nothing. It was another block of intentional time to connect.
I don’t know what that will look like this year now that he’s secured a teaching position, but I know we’ll find some version of it — because it matters.
The part we didn’t see coming
If you’d asked me before we moved what I thought would change, I’d have said: the language, the culture, the community we’d build, the places we’d explore. I never would have guessed how much closer we’ve become.
And it didn’t stop with our marriage.
Evening strolls through the plaza with just a ball or hacky sack to pass among the four of us. Morning hikes and long talks with my oldest. Word searches and laughing with my 7-year-old on the ride home from school. We didn’t plan for any of that.
It might be the best part of the whole move.
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