It’s the hardest thing in the world, seeing your mother cry. It’s one of those things that doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, comes as the starkest reminder that what’s going on is a really big deal.

The effort of making this move, from London to San Francisco, is consuming. Especially this week as everything moves so fast, forms to be filled, a tenancy signed, a one-way flight booked. You don’t get much insight into how other people feel about your departure as you’d like. No matter how temporarily, they’re sad, upset and down. And it only comes out; it only connects, when you actually say goodbye.

It hits you so hard. The coming together of the cold, hectic process of organising a life, and the raw love and emotions of the life you actually live in.

3 hours into the flight we’re over Greenland. Snow covered and rocky, yet surprisingly flat. The total desolation of the place is making me desperately aware of how far away I’m going to be, and how much I’m going to miss my family.

I know it’s going to be fine. I know I’m going to have an amazing time in San Francisco. But I’m back in reality, and I know there are things that will be really difficult, too.