"Always the same story. U wanna go home but you don't wanna leave home....."
With five days to go before I fly back from 'home home' to my adopted Barcelona, something a friend (dear Monica) wrote to me yesterday (in response to what I had said about leaving Joburg and going back to Spain) made me wonder : How can I explain the mixed feelings I have
every single time I leave a place I have moulded into, to some extent or other?
I left South Africa twelve years ago.Since then, I have moved to work and live in about eight different countries. Time spans have varied, experiences-some better than others - but they have all, and I mean all, become a part of me. And I, having been part of wherever there,have left a little part of me.
So,how can it
not affect me when it's time to say goodbye? To acquaintances made, lessons learnt, people loved,family shared and memories collected in pockets? Where can I put them all? How can I put into words the madness that goes on in my gut every time it's time to move? It doesn't matter that I'm perfectly happy where I am, or that I'm going to another spot I have chosen, it doesn't matter that I might be there for a month or a year - the knot in my tummy slips,tightens,loops,frays,shivers and pulls.There are moments of ease but as the departure approaches,they certainly diminish.Time seems to overtake itself and there are instants when all I can do is freeze,hoping that it will pause to take a breath and give me a second to work out which way to turn.I start to rebel inside,I get frustrated - it's running out and I find myself mentally slotting people to see into blocks in a visual diary. The thoughts in my head scream around from where I am what I've done how it's been how I feel what I'm doing what there is to do who I've seen who's to see where and when and how to where I'm going what I'll be doing what there'll be to do who there is to see how it will be and how I will be.
Of
course it's always fine,of course it all gets done and of course I'm OK. I have,after all, done this so many times I've lost count. Once the bag is packed with its little material tokens of my sojourn, loved ones have been held close and told to take care,once tears of nostalgia have been shed and I step through Passport Control, it's just the next step. On the way back/home/to/ another part of me. (Select as appropriate )
But it still doesn't take away the absolute thrill,anxiety,fear,excitement,joy and sadness of saying goodbye to a hello and the saying hello to a goodbye. Ever.
