Ce n’était qu’un au revoir


Less than one more week until one more month before D(eparture)-Day. It’s almost the final countdown.

I’m trying not to think of the final month as being full of lasts, but of the first month as full of firsts. Deep, huh? But, let’s face it, although I’m not a miserable person, a fair amount of my humour is based on the glass often being half empty.

So I’m gonna talk a bit about things that I’m gonna miss while they’re different for a while.

The Wife (for she is rather wise), had a bit of deep thought about this just yesterday evening. With reference to “our” as-yet-unfinished-house-soon-to-be-a-home (my semi-permanent digs), she quite aptly asked, “You know how you get comfortable in your own house, enough to walk around in the dark? And then they move the walls and doors…?” And we both knew we weren’t talking about the house.

At least in my metaphorical house, the walls and doors will be back where they once were soon enough. Maybe too soon. Who even knows? And so what if for a while I have to leave the lights on while I get my bearings? Hide and Seek always was more fun in the dark.

That doesn’t mean I’m not going to desperately miss a lot of things. Coffee and cake on campus. Looking over the lake when the lights are on. Not feeling like a tourist in York city centre. But at least those things I don’t feel I have to say goodbye to.

I hate goodbyes. And being without people/things I’ve become used to having around. Whether they remain to be useful pleasant or interesting or not.

I hate goodbyes so much that I pretend they’re something else. Or conveniently forget to say goodbye at all. Which some people don’t react well to. Have this as your warning, folks. Start planning your coping strategy now.

Take The Wife’s boyfriend for example (I’m assuming it has become fairly apparent that The Wife and I are not in fact married and that this is more of a “you guys are just like a married couple” sort of setup). Some (all) call him Jesus, because he is the spitting image of the popular representation of a Christian deity. I call him The Messiah, because I like to make frequent and hilarious references to The Life of Brian. Take The Messiah for example: just as the story goes, you think he’s gone, but give it three days and he’s back. So goodbyes in this case are as futile as they are sad (I get on really well with him, even if he is banging my wife).

My first goodbye was more of an au revoir. And I still cried. There were presents and coffee. And I still cried. Much to the confusion and apparent emotional conflict of a Community Warden who witnessed me sobbing as I ran to catch a train. Although I expertly held it together until the au revoir-er in question (The Un-Frenchman, who incidentally knows The Destination well, but will not be setting foot there while I’m year-abroading) had taken 5 long strides in the opposite direction.

So I have decided there will be no goodbyes, not even au revoirs. Things will be different, but they will not cease to be. And much like The Wife’s bearded boyfriend, I doubt the good ones will disappear for long.

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