As our family back home eagerly watches the melting snow, waiting for the warmer Spring weather to arrive, cooler temps are slowly moving in to Auckland as the leaves turn from green to yellow, orange, and red. The first of March marked the first day of Fall in New Zealand, though as is often typical in the States, our weather is still having an identity crisis. Chilly mornings offer signs of autumn, but sunny afternoons trick us into thinking summer is hanging around a bit longer.

It’s funny to see some of the trees turning colors and losing their leaves, while others remain full of greenery, unlikely to change regardless of the season. One tree we’ve been monitoring daily is the Feijoa tree in our backyard. In the Springtime, this tree was full of beautiful red blossoms, but Fall marks the time when the fruit of the tree is ripe for picking. Feijoas, or pineapple guava, are a traditional New Zealand fruit. It’s hard to describe its unique flavor, which is quite aromatic and floral, blending the tastes of pineapple, strawberry, and citrus. At times, I find there’s even a slight minty aftertaste. When cut in half, there’s a white pulp that’s soft and jelly-like in the center similar to a passion fruit or kiwi, but grittier like a pear near the skin.

Rather than pick the fruit from the tree itself, its recommended you wait until the fruit falls to the ground and then collect it before it softens or rots. So, each day, while Austin and I cook dinner, we send Larsen out back to pick up the fallen fruit. At first, she’d come in with a few at a time, which quickly became handfuls and then bowlfuls. Now, with dozens of fruits falling every day, the novelty of collecting our backyard produce has worn off and we’ve found ourselves falling behind as our yard piles up with fallen feijoas. Instead of apple picking in flannel, we find ourselves cleaning up bruised feijoas in our shorts and sunglasses.

March also marks the month of my birthday, and if anyone knows me well, they know how much I love to celebrate birthdays. Growing up, my mom was exceptional at making us feel special and ensuring we were showered with love and gifts. She was always the first to text or call, made our favorite dinner, dessert or cake, and always made time to take meet up for a shopping trip or lunch date. Since her passing, my birthday has always brought with it some grief, as I feel her absence even more. Moreso, It’s become a bit of a joke in the family that I have a running history of botched birthdays leaving me convinced I’m under some sort of birthday curse.

In high school, my car was broken into and my stereo ripped apart and stolen, leaving my heating system damaged during one of the worst winter storms that year. Also in high school, my mom begged me to come home from work before going out with friends, to which I insisted I really just wanted to head out and see them first. On my way home, a deer ran into the side of my car. As a naïve teen, I drove all the way home with my bumper dragging, because I didn’t have a cellphone to call for help. Ironically, when I got home, my mom cheered me up by having me open my birthday present – a cell phone. Two years ago, I took the day off of work to do some shopping, and instead of walking the aisles of Target, I ended up sharing insurance information with another driver after an accident that was unfortunately my fault. And last year, on what was a beautiful March afternoon, I took my dog Bernie on a walk in our neighborhood, only to be attacked by two Pitbull dogs just two blocks from our house. Needless to say, I was prepared to take it easy this year and avoid another unfortunate event.

The plan was to spend the day getting a couples massage with Austin, maybe grab some lunch together, and then celebrate with our friends the next night at a restaurant up the street from our house. The day before, however, I got the call that the job I applied for was interested in interviewing me the next day (my birthday). This unexpected but welcome hitch in our plans required us to reschedule the massages to the next day, so I could run into the city and meet with the team I was anxious to work with. And though our plans were disrupted, the interview went great and I was called back in for a second round, which resulted in me finally securing a job after a year of searching. It’s safe to say, the birthday curse is broken, at least for this year! Starting April 14^th, I’ll be joining Auckland Council (part of the city government of Auckland) as a Senior Customer and Citizen Engagement Specialist. It seems for my birthday, I was gifted the last piece of the puzzle to our new life in New Zealand, and what a gift that is.

As planned, the day after my birthday, we met our new friends Tory and George for dinner at Olle, a cute little bistro/wine bar up the street from our house. I met Tory through a local group known as Auckland Girls Network, which hosts events for women in the area to get together to build community and make friends. Tory and I both attended the “Expat Girlies” night and instantly hit it off. An American from Rhode Island, Tory met her Kiwi-husband George while studying abroad in New Zealand during college. The pair had been living in the States and decided to move back here in October, just a few months after we had arrived. Though we’ve only known them for a short time, we’ve grown quite close to Tory and George, and they were the perfect pair to join us for my birthday dinner. We spent the night sharing small plates, swapping life stories, and playing Twenty Questions with Larsen, which resulted in us being the loud, laughing Americans at the restaurant (Sorry George!).

As we said our goodbyes, Tory sneakily rubbed some ChapStick on my nose to offer me good luck for the year. Proud of her Irish heritage, Tory shared that it’s tradition in her family to rub a bit of butter on someone’s nose to ward off the devil – the butter makes them “slip off” you. Without butter, she opted for ChapStick instead, which I found both hilarious and incredibly endearing. Walking back home with Larsen and Austin, I couldn’t help keep the smile from my face as I realized how truly full our life has become. Being away from our friends and family will never be easy, but I am so incredibly grateful for this new community we are building. A part of me feels that 37 just might be my best year yet.

The good vibes kept rolling with the arrival of our second visitor, my younger sister Sarah. Though her schedule only allowed her five days in the country, we used every minute available to show her around and explore the island. The moment she arrived the weather turned from rainy and cloudy to sunny perfection, offering us the best possible weather for enjoying our favorite beaches, hiking along the coast, and visiting Piha Beach and Kitekite Falls. Though we would have loved to have my 5-year-old niece Guin along for the trip, we appreciated the one-on-one time we got with Sarah when she wasn’t busy being a mom. Larsen in particular spent every waking moment playing with Sarah, sitting by Sarah, and asking “Where is Sarah? Is Sarah up yet? How many more days is Sarah here?” Long distance living is hard, but the family time just becomes that much more special.

The day Sarah left to go home, we got to welcome another group of travelers, though this family was here to stay. Last Spring, when our family was researching how to make our move to New Zealand a reality, I became pen pals with a woman from Idaho who was also in the process of figuring out how to move her family of five across the globe. We connected instantly and decided to stay in touch via email to help each other through the process. After a full year of planning, her family was finally arriving and I couldn’t wait to be there to welcome them.

As I drove with Austin to the airport to help pick up half of their luggage (their rental wasn’t able to accommodate it all), I felt emotional remembering what those first days were like when we arrived back in August. I remember feeling so overwhelmed and unsteady, running on adrenaline and desperately hoping our gamble on New Zealand would pay off. And now, here I was, seven months later driving to welcome someone who was just starting that same journey, and I felt the remarkable certainty that it had indeed paid off. In fact, we were all doing better than we could have ever imagined at this point. I was overjoyed to welcome my friend and show her that while this part is hard and scary, it’s going to be worth it in the long run.

As I sit here now, thinking back over everything we’ve gone through and where we are at today, I feel an incredible amount of pride. When we left the States, it felt like our life was a mix of puzzle pieces that had been turned upside down and needed sorting. The first few months was like putting together the border of the puzzle, creating some structure but not yet having a picture of what was next. As we moved into our home, started school and work, the picture slowly started to come together and the pieces were easier to fit into place. And now, with 7-months behind us, two visits from family, growing friendships, and secured incomes, the last piece of the puzzle is in and we get to stand back and admire the picture. Of course, if you know anything about me, I won’t be enjoying the picture for too long before I’m ready to start another puzzle.