It's been a long time coming, and it won't be particularly profound.
With that apology, to those of you who (against all reason and probability)
check back here and see what I have to say -

Well, there's a lot of romance to moving overseas.
Perhaps especially to moving to England.
Did you know Jane Austen was from England? (*pause for sit-com laugh*)
Or the Bronte sisters - all three of them? (I'm an English major - I know that there were three. On a good day I can name them all.)

England is an advanced, post-industrial country.
Jane never saw it coming: the pavement crusted with chewing-gum; the pub with alcoholics outside, smoking; the constant problems with crime, petty and not-so-; the weariness.

There's a trajectory. The Romans exemplified it. You can only be on top for so long. From there it's all decline.
Maybe England will rise again. I love its heritage enough to wish it to be so. And it's got vestigial recources. But they are tangled in forms, red tape, tradition, and a thousand strands of silver, strong cables that the past has spun.

There are other empires rising. India comes to mind. England has a lot to answer for there, and a lot to celebrate. But England is an aging parent. She wasn't a perfect mother, and she's now in the stage of looking back, wondering what's ahead for her in her attenuated existence.

Do nations hope for heaven?
I hope that this one goes there. She's given the world a lot, and for all her sins, I hope there's a reward for beauty. She's shared a lot of beauty. I thank her for that.