It’s funny this leaving thing. We’ve known we’re going for a long time now and yet it doesn’t seem to get any more real the closer we get. To be honest I don’t really know what it is I’m expecting to feel. I have experienced a tumble-dryer of emotions over the past month – one event in the extrication can spin me off into an affro of different feeling and thought directions – I can hardly register them all, let alone connect with them. Leaving the house we have built and loved, the garden Matt has planted and we have watched grow, leaving the community we have taken time to get to know and in which we have found a safe and loving place, the school we admire and adore and a physical familiarity that has meant the dog knows when to sit before crossing the road. I have also said goodbye to my family. These things we are farewelling with a sadness as we embark on a truly exciting adventure.
It seems that the leaving also encourages the expression of sentiments that may often go unsaid unless pushed by the prospect of separation or departure. I received a beautiful letter from a wonderful friend whom I hadn’t seen for longer than I think either of us liked. The letter brought us together for a cup of tea and a chat and it made me wonder why it had taken my departure for us to have that cup of tea, or to have some of those conversations with others, or to say some of those words.
So we’re lying in our swags on the floor of our empty, echoing house, waiting for our leaving day to arrive. I’m still not sure what the overwhelming feeling is, but there is a little dollop of pride in there somewhere, that we have actually made it to the starting line! Everything after tomorrow – after the actual journey begins – feels like a bonus!