When we fell in love, my future husband wrote: Being with you feels like being in a foreign country. Both of us separately had lived, before we met, in foreign countries. We wanted to move abroad again together. Years passed and we didn’t move abroad, though we took the children to Europe a couple of times. One night, when my husband said he was leaving me, I understood the flaw embedded in the compliment, which I had treasured all those years: If you live in a country long enough, it’s no longer a foreign country; it’s just an ordinary place.