About a year and a half ago, we began asking ourselves a question that, at first glance, sounds quite harmless – and yet has shaken up our entire lives: What should our next years look like?

Our starting point was – and actually still is – not entirely ordinary. We are an eight-person patchwork family living across two houses, about 60 kilometers apart. Thomas in his dream house, me in mine. For years we commuted, spent countless hours on the road, and tried to somehow merge two centers of life into one. Again and again, the same options came up: Should I move in with Thomas? Should he move in with me? Should we sell both houses and build or find a third one that fits us all? None of these solutions ever felt truly right.

We both work in the automotive industry – a sector that no one would claim is heading toward carefree times anymore. So we thought further: Wouldn’t it be wise if at least one of us reoriented into another industry, to spread the risk a little?

And then there was a big dream. Thomas had always wanted to spend a longer period abroad. Out of the familiar. Out of the mainstream. A real adventure that broadens horizons.

All these thoughts eventually led us to a common denominator: A period abroad could be a damn good next step.

But the question of whether was still far from answered. And then there was the question of where. That discussion lasted – honestly – about five minutes. Impressive nature, good climate, European-influenced but not Europe, and English-speaking. The answer came quickly: New Zealand.

So we decided to make our honeymoon trip in January to New Zealand – with open eyes and open hearts. We wanted to see if it felt right. And if so, where exactly. In the end, we liked Christchurch best, because of the beautiful city with many parks, the proximity to the mountains and beaches, and also because it gave us a slight Munich vibe.

From mid-2024 to mid-2025 we turned everything upside down. We read books, spoke with a consultant, with people who also have stayed abroad for longer than just a holiday-trip – and with those for whom it hadn’t worked out. We talked about risks, stumbling blocks, fears. For example, how difficult it might be to find new friends. In Germany, many contacts arise through the children – but Marie and Ferdinand are no longer so small that you automatically meet other moms and dads at the playground. On our trip, however, we felt: This should be doable for us. Back in Germany began perhaps the most intense phase, because we realized we had to slowly come to a decision.

And still: A decision doesn’t grow linearly. There are days when you think, “Of course, we’re doing this.” And the next day it feels completely absurd. How can you live without family and friends? That’s far too hard.

Besides, we currently have really good jobs. Jobs that fulfill us, with exciting tasks, lots of creative freedom – and above all with great colleagues. People with whom you don’t just “work,” but laugh, debate, support each other. Over the years, many of them have become friends. We both have huge networks, people know us, trust us – and many things run smoothly precisely because of that.

When we were close to backing out in spring, Marie came to us and said, in essence: We can’t just drop this now. She was already looking forward to the school uniform, to English – and she absolutely wanted a little rowing boat. In moments like that, you realize how deeply this idea had already settled into everyone’s hearts.

By mid-year, our self-imposed decision due date had arrived. No more weighing options. No more Excel lists. It had to be a gut decision. And our gut said: If we don’t do it now – in this one window of time when his children are old enough and mine still young enough – then we might regret it someday. And: Such a stay abroad is, in any case, an enormous broadening of horizons. Not least for our English skills 😉

At the same time, we know very well what we are leaving behind. It weighs heavily that Thomas’ children are not enthusiastic about the idea. They are in the middle of their education and want to finish it. They also have their mother in Neumarkt and very good friends they don’t want to live without.

Right now, we have an incredibly stable and loving environment. Wonderful friends for every situation. Large families on both sides who stick together, see each other often, and genuinely like each other – that’s not something to take for granted. I see my parents at least once a week, my mom and I are constantly on the phone. My kids even joke: “Do you know this one? Mom only has a veeeery short call with Grandma…”

Or when I think of balmy summer evenings, I see myself sitting with my dad on the balcony, philosophizing about life, and feeling our special closeness.

And the countless beautiful evenings with my siblings – whether spending a weekend together in a cabin with loads of mom’s homemade stollen and several rounds of Kniffel – or simply meeting spontaneously on the terrace at home.

With my aunts and all female relatives over 18, we’ve had our legendary “Piri-Piri evening” for about 15 years – named after a fruit sparkling wine that was sold back then. Everyone brings something to eat, and the rest is a very boisterous evening full of sparkling wine, cocktails, and tears of laughter. As I write this, I actually have tears in my eyes (again).

Then there are family rituals like the big Easter hike with relatives, children, and grandchildren – or the autumn family gathering with Thomas’ family. Or hiking, brunching, climbing, pizza at Ristorante “Di Mario,” as well as the joint “candleholder crafting” 😉 or embarking on micro-adventures with friends. All of that we are leaving behind.

And yet we want to go to New Zealand for a longer time.

It will be hard. Very hard. We are fully aware of that. But we also told ourselves: Decisions can be corrected. We can always come back, stop, reorganize. We very much hope that contact with family – above all with Thomas’ older children and best friends – will at least remain virtually. Luckily, we no longer live in a time when a phone call was unaffordable and plagued with static and crackling. Today there’s WhatsApp, video calls – and closeness in a different way.

Of course, the time difference (currently ten hours) will play a role. But then a meeting with a friend might look like this: She sits in the German summer evening on the balcony with an Aperol Spritz, and I drink my morning coffee in the New Zealand winter in the kitchen.

Let’s not kid ourselves: The contact won’t stay the same. It will become sparser. And that hurts. Very much. But sometimes growth means letting go of something cherished – at least for a while. And that’s exactly where we stand now.