Nearly There

Two weeks.

We’re officially on the count down.  It all feels a bit weird this year, this year it’s just us. The kids and I. G will follow in the middle of July, but on June 16th we’ll make our way through immigration and onto the tarmac without him.

This morning the second little traveller made a count down. We all cheered when she said “Ten days of school” and then came the collective sigh “and fourteen days of Daddy”. One minute you’re up, the next you’re down. It’s like being in the wrong place for Christmas. The day arrives and the anticipation and the excitement of Christmas is there – but something’s just not quite right.  There’s someone missing.

The pace over the past few weeks has been frantic. The peddling was so fast last week that our feet slipped and hit the ground a few times. There’s been meltdowns over costumes that need to be ready, and french tests that are so large they’ve take two days to complete. The first little traveller has a test every day of this week. We’ve had birthdays with parties to organize, and impossibly sad anniversaries to remember. Every little traveller is feeling anxiety about the loss of a teacher. Expat goodbyes come in many different forms.

Over dinner the little travellers speak of the causalities, fellow travellers who are on the move. “Her Dad’s with the embassy, they’re going to Korea.” “He had to pick up his report card today, he’s moving to Kenya.” “Okay, does anyone know anyone not moving to a country starting with K?” someone jokes. “Yeah, I do, I know someone moving to America!”

Two weeks to go. Excited to the point of internal combustion about visit with Granny and trips to the beach. Anxious about flights and goodbyes. We keep peddling, a bit faster, come on, nearly there.

Nearly there.

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