Pretty soon I’m off to see,
The people on my fridge,
I shall take my expat journey,
Time and distances to bridge,
There’ll be hugs, and there’ll be tears,
Then the years will fall away,
There’ll be lots of catching up,
As well as time to laugh and play,
Then the people on the fridge will wonder,
Why I just can’t stay,
I’ll admit I kind of wish I could,
But I won’t try to explain,
I’ll just hug and kiss them gently,
And then fly back home again.
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Random Misanthrope 
You’ve summed up the expat experience perfectly, Ken. My visits to the people on my “fridge” are more frequent, usually occurring every year to eighteen months. I was just there in February, actually. But each visit is the same, I’m overjoyed to see everyone but at the end of it I’m eager to come back to Sweden. I’ve learned that my mother doesn’t like to hear me say how much I like it in Sweden because she feels I’m saying that California and everything there (including my family) aren’t good enough for me. And that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m happy where I am, that’s all.
Life as an expat is often complicated.
It most certainly is.