We sold our house in Houston on the first day it hit the market. We couldn’t believe it. We were the god and goddess of house selling. After the second bottle of champagne and the fifteenth self congratulatory pat on the back, we went to bed ten feet taller and completely bullet proof.
And then the sale fell apart.
We had two weeks before we were leaving the country.
It was a disaster.
With the house half packed and both G and I reeking of desperation, there were no further bites. The jig was up. Buyers knew we needed to sell and they were willing to wait it out. We were going to have to leave the country with a rather huge investment in the hands of a real estate agent who had really bad dress sense and a bad attitude.
And then it got worse.
On the day we were leaving, a water pipe burst in an internal wall. We saw the damp making its way down the wall. The drips were large enough that the beagle stopped for a drink as she wandered by.
And then the real estate agent arrived with a prospective buyer as a surprise.
Surprise!
We had an hour to get to the airport.
I stood on the front lawn of our unsold leaky house with the beagle on a leash, 20 suitcases around my feet and 4 children in different stages of pre moving hyperplaneactiveness. You think that’s not a word? Wait until you move country.
By the time we got to the airport I’d had enough. Forget emotional roller coasters, it had been two weeks of an emotional high speed rail with a catastrophic crash at the end. We’d only moved 12 months before and now G was changing company. We were heading to the unknown. We were exhausted. Done. At the end of the line. We’d reached our limit.
We arrived at the airport in a state of chaos, there was a problem getting the beagle on the plane, the children cried as they whisked her away and we had too much luggage. We stood in the line being jostled between one attendant and another with minutes to make our flight. We have to pay how much? And then my necklace broke. I heard the metal of the love heart bounce as it hit the cold airport floor.
As I reached down to pick it up I pictured my girlfriends handing it to me on my birthday. Women I’d known for over 20 years. I’d fallen in love with it immediately. It was perfect. Someone who knew me well had bought this, and while it was perfect for me, it reminded me of them. I hadn’t taken it off since the day I’d got it. Whenever I was anxious I would twirl the love heart in my fingers, I’d done it unconsciously. And now it was on the floor of the airport. The line began to move – I quickly grabbed the chain and the heart, and stuffed it into my pocket before getting on the plane.
Don’t cry. Just get on the plane. Don’t cry.
A week later I sat in a coffee shop in Doha looking at a sea of faces – none familiar. No-one was particularly friendly, I felt self conscious, I was beginning to plan my exit. Out of the blue, a women arrived with twinkling eyes, a devilish sense of humor and a bag of jewelry for sale. I looked down at the silver pieces and recited the story of my love heart, I was melodramatic “I’m devastated, I had something similar” I pulled my love heart from my handbag “my girlfriends gave it to me”. She got it. She could see it was more than just a necklace.
“I think I can fix it – I think I know someone”
And she did.
I’d made a friend. My newest friend had helped me regain a little piece of my old ones.
Today I showed an old friend my daily life. She came on the school run and I introduced her to my new world, my new friends. We sat in the school cafeteria, her children with mine. My two worlds collided for just a moment. My expat bliss must have been visable, a text from a new friends arrived that night:
“you looked very happy today. A dose of good old aussie friends that know you inside and out does the soul a lot of good. enjoy their company.”
I’m not sure how I got so lucky – the old friends are fabulous. The new friends – I’m so glad I met you.
New friends, old friends, no friends, repeat.
Expat life.
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That brought tears to my eyes because I know exactly what that feels like.
Exactly what I was going to say (as I sit in the library at uni)
You penned it well! Keep making friends is a hard suggestion to some as it soon will be moving time (May is coming fast!) but you’re right … you have to keep going!
I’m writing this from a hotel room where we stayed the night after the movers packed up our house yesterday. Flying to a new country today with only three kids and no beagle but the number of suitcases just about right. You just made me cry. But thanks anyway, it was not a really bad kind of cry.
So…. did you sell your house? I hate ‘last minute’ dealings and it must have been horrendous to be heading off to a foreign land to leave it all in the hands of a stranger.
This was yet another beautiful post. I have a few wonderful friends leaving soon but your post was very inspiring to make new ones and not fall into a heap of ‘sorry for myself’ when they leave – I think I might get a dog though…..S x
What a horrendous house-selling story!
Something similar happened to me and my ex-h years ago. We had sold our house, moved out, all done and dusted, and a week later got a phone call to say the bedroom ceiling had fallen in because of a water leak.
I’m sorry to say I laughed. The guy rang off in disgust, rang my husband and agreed that we should pay for the repairs. Oops.
What goes around comes around !!! I was at a coffee morning in Joburg a few weeks ago, and started chatting to a lady who does a local blog which I had found very helpful. I mentioned I had come from Doha and had a friend there who wrote a similar blog, and it turns out, she is a big fan.So, there we were, two strangers, who suddenly had something in common (you !!!}, thanks again for another lovely piece of writing. xxxx Darina
It’s so true. Those first months in a new country seem so lonely and endless. I yearned for my old friends SO much when we moved to HK. There was many a tear. Now I don’t know how I ever lived without them. It’s the beauty of living away from home. So many great friends xx
Absolutely. The one thing I’ve realised – and my daughter is also noticing – is that we’re making lots of friends here. Being ‘new’ means that you’re not in that ‘I have enough people in my life already’ attitude and the generosity shown to us we’re also showing right back to them and other people we meet. That’s a messy way of writing (blame the flu that’s infected all three of us) – yes, I agree with you!
What perfect timing for me – We are saying goodbye to Canada and hello to Chile within months and it’s killing me that I have to say goodbye to my newly found friends of Canada. These people have been a godsend for me and my journey here. God bless those women who embrace the lost and lonely and extend the olive branch when a normally extroverted girl is feeling isolated and alone. I just hope the experience in Chile is as wonderful.
Making friends that is what keep us all going. It is when you want to home, because you are missing your new friends. It is a funny world the expat one, but there are some amazing people out there.
I have only done one big huge move. And this post says it all. xxx