Steps to America — Part 3: Twenty-Five Last Times

This one is late. I want to say that out loud before anything else.

The reason is the same reason the newsletter exists in the first place. Everything happened at once. The house in Pennsylvania needed closing remotely, the house in Baarn needed selling, the container needed packing, SciSports needed running, and I needed to be in a few places at the same time. Something had to give for a few weeks. The newsletter was that something. Sorry for the wait, and thank you for still being here.

Let me catch you up.

We came back from the US in April having said yes, but with the contract still very much open. From the Netherlands, we had to actually secure it. That meant weeks of calls and emails between time zones, with our lawyer, our realtor, the title company, and the seller, lining up an agreement we could trust from 6,000 kilometres away.

Along the way I had to learn another batch of new words. Mechanics lien, which is basically protection in case anyone who worked on the build later claims they were not paid. Title company, the neutral party that holds the money and confirms ownership transfers cleanly. Homeowners insurance, which I thought I understood, until I met umbrella insurance. That one sits on top of your other policies and catches the very big claims. Every term needed a second read. Every clause needed a second look.

We got there. The contract is solid. Settlement is on July 15th.

Honestly, the contract was the easy part.

The hard part was the house in Baarn. We listed it, and within a week a lovely family said yes. Quick, clean, exactly the kind of buyers you wish for. We were happy. The house is not gone yet. We are still living in it, still walking past the same walls, still making coffee in the same kitchen. But now we know. We know it will be empty. We know there is a date. We know there is no way back.

That was the hard part. Not the paperwork, not the logistics. The moment everything went from abstract to very real, very close, very final.

On July 10th we de-register in the Netherlands and step into the unknown. No house, no registration, no Dutch base. On July 15th we settle in Pennsylvania. The five days in between are, technically speaking, the days we are homeless. A strange word for a strange moment.

We had to let that one sit for a while.

Then I left for 22 days. My personal longest business trip ever.

I was not in the Netherlands while the girls packed up the home where everything had happened. Birthdays, exam stress, first hockey kits, sleepovers, summer dinners, all the small everyday things that quietly add up to a childhood. I was not there for the last stretch of my eldest's final exams. I was not there when the moving company arrived, packed the entire house into boxes, and loaded a shipping container with one destination on the label. Downingtown, PA.

That trip taught me something I needed to hear. I do not want to be away from the girls for that long. Not now. Not at this point in their lives. There is a version of this job that asks for that, and I am quietly choosing the version that does not.

While I was gone, Nadine carried everything. I call her the Captain of Team Van Renesse, and this stretch is exactly why. She held the home, the girls, the packers, the schedule, the emotions, the goodbyes, and somehow still made space for the small things that matter. I cannot say thank you enough.

The trip itself was, business-wise, a good one. Two weekends in Boston for the first live activation of our player profiles at tournaments in Boston and Lancaster, MA. Over 500,000 views generated, a real lift for our FC Elevate brand, and the kind of feedback that tells you you are on the right track. I also spent time in our Dallas office working through strategy and go-to-market with the team, and we closed a really nice partnership with a leading academy in the Boston area. More on that one later.

So the work paid off. It just came at a price I will not pay again at the same length.

Coming back after 22 days felt like the world re-opened.

The best moment of the lot: the phone call telling us Aimée had graduated. She did it. As a dad, my heart was completely full. I was beaming for days. The kind of smile that does not really leave your face.

A few days later, my closest friends took me out for a bachelor-style farewell evening. Friends I have known for more than forty years. You do not get many evenings like that in a life. I will not forget that one.

And then, on Saturday, the farewell party in Baarn. 135 people at the local restaurant. Old friends, family, neighbours, colleagues, the people who shaped the years we are now leaving behind. We celebrated. We laughed. We shed some tears too. In moments like that, laughter and tears live very close together. We loved every second of it.

In and around all of that, the girls have been quietly going through their own series of lasts. Last hockey games. Last team dinners. Last goodbyes to teammates and friends they have grown up with. For Milou, her last time at the stables, her last time on her horse for now. Every week there is a new last time. It is strange. It is bittersweet. You do not realise how many small rituals make up a life until you start ticking them off one by one.

The title of this part is something my family has been saying to each other for weeks. Twenty-five times for the last time. We probably underestimated it.

There is, of course, still a list. Credit cards to secure. Cars to find. Bank accounts to open. The Social Security Number saga continues. And of course, making sure everything is in place to actually take possession of the new house on July 15th. I will not bore you with all of it.

The next few weeks are about closing things off. Wrapping up. Seeing the friends and family we want to see properly before the door closes. Running and growing SciSports through all of it, because it does not pause. And quietly setting up the US side so that when July 10th arrives, the landing is as soft as we can make it.

First on my list: one more visit to the house, this time with my dad. I cannot wait to walk him through the place we are about to call home, show him the area, the streets, the schools, the bits I have come to love already. That one means a lot to me.

More soon. I promise.

📚 What I’ve Been Reading

Final show of my Daughter Aimee (left in the picture)