Yesterday was the first of the goodbyes. One of our friends, Carissa left for America yesterday and she won’t be returning before we leave. She is the first of our little group to depart and now that she has, our impending departure is looming with a renewed intensity. We’re a fabulous little group – the four of us not unlike the SATC foursome in many ways; after all, we are four single ladies living in a fabulous city, drinking fabulous cocktails (although as Shon’s points out, we really didn’t drink a lot of cocktails – it was more the fabulous food we ate but let’s face it, we didn’t have to watch our figures as we weren’t on the small screen!). But last night it all came to an end as we stood and watched the gigantic doors to the international terminal at Melbourne airport swallow her up. After an afternoon of helping her pack and toasting the year past with a spot of bubbly, we had our last hugs goodbye and sent her off on the holiday she needed and deserved. It didn’t really feel like we were saying goodbye, in fact, my brain positively refused to accept that it would be the last time I saw her for a possible three years. I’m not sure I have grasped that fact that they won’t be with me in the UK. In fact, I’m pretty sure that in most of my day dreams about my new life there, they’re all there with me. I suppose in some ways they will be, as I will always carry the people I love with me wherever I am and wherever they are but I’m having decided difficulty accepting that I won’t be seeing them on a daily basis. I haven’t thought about the fact that the experiences I will have will change me and that they won’t be there experiencing and changing with me. Next week, I say goodbye to Lou and then there will only be Shona and I left.
(This is where I insert a beat)
I’ve come to decide that my house is a giant Mary Poppins bag – the stuff that fills it is never-ending.
We move out next weekend and we’re half way through the great moving process. This week, we hit the surrounded by stuff stage. I feel it is possibly the worst of all the moving stages. It’s the stage where some of the furniture is gone but not all. Everything has been pulled out into one giant mass in the middle of each room to be sorted out. The best of the stuff has been sold and most of what remains is either pushed to the side to be later moved into some kind of storage or is just lying about, waiting for us to decide its fate. That’s where we’ve hit a wall. What to do with stuff that’s not good enough to sell but too good for the tip? And on top of trying to find answers to where it will all go, it now seems to be never-ending. No matter how much we remove, more is waiting for us when we return. Our lounge has turned into a sort of maze like shanty type of establishment. The type in which you would expect to find 15 cats running around it. We have to keep reminding ourselves that it will all be over in a week. It will all be gone – all a distant memory that will one day fade away altogether. And as I kindly reminded Shona last night – it would feel a hell of a lot worse if we had left it all to do in the last week. Better a shanty town than 48 hour working bee!