I hate saying goodbye.
When I left my previous job my manager called me aside and said thank you for the work I had done and we chatted for a bit before I went back to my desk. When it was time to leave I put on my bravest face and half shouted “see ya!!” in the best and brightest voice I could put on. Before there was even a chance of seeing my face I was off up the hill to my car, with tears running down my cheeks. They say a change is as good as a holiday, but I hate the thought of life going by without people who you were close to, and how quickly a month and then a year can pass without you even realising.
So leaving California is hard for me. It works best when I can say goodbye in the morning before the kids go off to school and then having the chance to mope round the house by myself in a total funk before shedding a few tears at the airport as I get on my plane. This is the best disaster aversion plan. It’s not to be this year. this time, my thirteen year old ‘littlest sister’ is skipping horse riding so she can come to the airport and say goodbye. And this will be the hardest thing for me. She, like me, wears her heart on her sleeve and her emotions at the surface, and watching her crumble as we walk away will just ruin me. People on the flight will think that the rest of the world has been wiped out in some apocalyptic style reckoning, but there is nothing I can do when the tears start.
On the train at the beginning of the year I sobbed my heart out. I didn’t care that there was mascara all over my face and people were giving me strange looks on the tube. The gates had opened, and I was crying. On the train back to my Dads a businessman looked embarrassed and offered me a tissue, looking shocked when I snorted a thank you and blew my nose like Hurricane Katrina. The thing is, I don’t get sad often, but when the tears start I figure that I might as well embrace them.
California holds onto my heart pretty tightly. I love my life in England; adore my family and cherish my friends. I love the freedom that living in the city gives me, but there is always part of me that is counting down the days to get back to a different life. One where I have two obnoxious little brothers (one who insisted on dragging me around the house by my leg yesterday, and resulted in me getting jumped on my three enormous dogs and being totally unable to move) and a bonus little sister to the one I have already.
The clouds make it easier to say goodbye today though. I hope its warm in England… I need to keep my tan!
Where in the world do you feel at home?