Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, you were talked about a lot today. On a strictly professional basis, I had to make up scenarios in which you are not Hungarian, or stay at home watering the plants, or stay behind at the duty station with the children until the end of the school year, or have a home country we go to on home leave. Or any combination of the above, you versatile hubster of mine.  When discussing establishment of entitlements, I also made reference to Harry Potter. For good measure. 

Dear future hubster, when the parallel lines of I love you and you love me meet, will that mean that we've reached infinity? Will that be the end of everything, or the beginning of it all?  Or is infinity just a synonym for never, a future that doesn't become present?  Or have we been there already? That one point where parallel lines meet, have we passed it? Are we on the other side of infinity?  

Dear future hubster, if you ever wondered what conditions one needs to fulfil to be considered a real Swiss girl, wonder no more. My undercover Hungarianness resulted in gathering considerable life advice from the two women next to me in the canteen who didn't know I understood them. One is considered a real Swiss girl if they had at least one Kosovar or Albanian boyfriend. 

Dear future hubster, while I really enjoy road trips in a team (remember, that's what we're supposed to be: a team), often for the destination, and almost always for the journey itself, I also appreciate and cherish my solo drives. Oddly, considering how many others are on the road with me, they feel like quality me-time. I get to listen to bad French radio and then move on to bad German radio, with all the painful accents; I get to sing along to even James Blunt because I will never have to admit it, for lack of witnesses.  I get to look at the ridiculously pretty landscapes, admire the mountains in the clouds, the lush greens, to doomy dark greys. I get to contemplate on life, the journey, the purpose, the meaning. I get to find some of the peace I thought I lost forever, because I couldn't hear the words of wisdom in the noise of everyday. See, I don't miss you on the road. I do at the end of the road. That's where I wish you were, waiting for me, laugh...

Dear future hubster, you know I like fairy tales and happy endings. I also like realistic depictions of emotionally overwhelming times. You know, the stories that remind us that it ain't that easy. What I don't like is when the protagonist throws their hands up in the air saying "it wasn't meant to be". Or when they expect a carriage ride in the sunset because "it was meant to be". That's just lazy. And/or sloppy writing. You know what is meant to be, in every story? A choice. You are meant to be given a choice - fate can only push somebody in your way, but it can't know what you're going to do with them. If you choose to stop, to give it consideration, time, and effort, then you choose to give the story a potentially meant to be ending - sunset ride optional. If you choose to sit one out, because it's not the right time, not the right place, not the right colour, too much work, not enough potential return on investment, you ...