This Might Not Be Forever – and That’s the Point

When you’re an expat, home often comes with an expiration date. Maybe it’s a one-year lease, or just that gut feeling that you’re not really staying long term. So, you wait. You hold off on unpacking that last box, buying the rug that would warm the room, or the good wine glasses – just because “we might move again soon.”

But here’s the thing no one tells you: everything is temporary. Even the “forever homes” we imagine, aren’t forever. Life changes. Circumstances shift. The only thing that’s actually permanent is the present. And most of us are too busy looking to the past or planning our future to enjoy it.

I’ve met so many expats who live in homes that feel more like waiting rooms. Boxes never quite unpacked. Artwork leaning against walls. A sad plastic chair standing in for “real furniture” until real life starts. But what if this is real life?

Designing a temporary home like it’s a permanent one isn’t about pretending you’ll stay. It’s about honoring the life you’re living right now. Your current self deserves comfort, beauty, and the pleasure of spaces that reflect who you are, not just who you might be in a more stable future.

“But here’s the thing no one tells you: everything is temporary. Even the “forever homes” we imagine, aren’t forever.”

When you finally buy a proper sofa, (not the one your expat friend left behind when she moved back home, but one you actually like), something shifts. Not just in your living room, but in you. You stop treating your life as a layover and start living like it’s already happening. Sure, you may move again, but for now, you sit on that sofa every morning with coffee, and you’re reminded that this moment matters.

And honestly, letting go of “forever” can be freeing. You don’t have to design a perfect home that lasts decades. You just have to create a space that supports you today. So go ahead, buy the weird vase. Hang the art. Put up the shelf. Change the lampshade. Host the dinner party, even if the table wobbles and the chairs don’t match. That’s where life happens. Not later. Now.

You don’t need to wait for permanence to create meaning. Some of the most memorable homes we’ve been in weren’t polished, but they had soul. They were lived in. They were loved in. They had that magic mix of intention and imperfection that says: someone really lives here.

There’s a beautiful kind of intimacy in knowing something won’t last. It invites presence. It invites gratitude. It reminds us to loosen our grip, to hold things lightly. It teaches us to be open to change, and maybe most importantly, to stop postponing joy until some mythical time when everything is figured out and nailed down.

So no, this might not be your forever sofa. Or your forever rug. Or your forever sheets. But that’s not the point. The point is: you’re here. You’re creating a new life in a new country. You’re building a home.Not for forever, but for now.