I come from a family of ruthless, rootless, French expatriates. But papa isn’t a diplomat; papa is a CFO at a French car company. He’s spent his whole life working. They send him to factories and to selling points abroad, where he’s given three-year contracts. Papa usually doesn’t know where he’ll be sent next.
Papa’s papa was a baker, and he too spent his whole life working. Papa’s papa would wake up early in the morning to knead the dough and bake the bread. Then papa’s maman would go to the shop and set it all. My papa went to school, and now here we are.
Growing up, I followed my parents abroad. I went to international schools in the countries where we lived and I developed the hybrid International school accent. It doesn’t sound American. Nor English. It sounds like nothing. It’s neutral. Like a tepid glass of water.