We should be fed up of the sight of this lady. And she of us. 3 weeks of anyone is a lot to ask. But it flashed by, we had a blast and now I’m reminded – like a blow to the head – that the goodbyes never get any easier.
I feel so selfish and spoilt for feeling like this!
The 3 weeks that she was here felt like they lasted forever! 2 days with us here acclimatising. 9 days travelling in Jordan. Another 2 days before Uncle Wanderlust and his lovely wife joined us for a week and the thrills of the Qatar Tennis Open for 6 of those days.
We’re so lucky that she’s happy to come with us on our crazy holiday adventures. (Although to be fair this was her bucket list item!) To have someone around who the Things adore (and who she adores back) is brilliant. To share experiences all together is, to quote the MasterCard adverts, priceless. She was the one who brought activities and entertainment to Every Single Meal while Mr Wanderlust and I brought… Well, nothing. It was her that thought of making a trail with the Things in Petra for us to follow so they wouldn’t get bored or tired or both.
We are so lucky that she doesn’t mind the travel and the stress. I know it isn’t easy when your flight gets cancelled at the last minute. Or when the airline clobbers you for excess baggage because your daughter has asked you to bring over the contents of a small shop in Christmas presents. We are lucky that she can travel here. Every time she comes I think about how lucky we are.
Back to reality
Granny Wanderlust is, as I write, about halfway back to London. From there she has 2 trains to catch and a taxi. I try not to think about how far she has to travel just to see us.
Wallowing in self misery is an unattractive trait at the best of times and achieves nothing. It doesn’t make the time go quicker (quite the opposite) and anyway, there’s no point in wishing your life away. I know she will throw herself back into her routine and she has told me to do the same.
I’ve done the school run and I’m writing this post for the second time (I lost it the first time). I’m on my 10th cup of tea (decaf) and I’ve been sorting through my inbox as I go. I’ve promised her that the blog will have earned some money by the next time I see her. No pressure then.
This is where expat life is so hard in a way you couldn’t explain to your former expat self. I’ve written about some of the trials and tribulations (and first world problems) of being an expat wife.
Thing 1 was distraught when he realised she was gone even though we’ve been preparing him for days. Sobbing one minute and raging the next, we were lucky to get him to school. I cried this morning wishing for the time when he innocently didn’t realise the concept of goodbyes or the passage of time. It’s that realisation that he has reached the stage where he can understand the cruelties of expat life.
I want to tell him that it won’t always be this hard and will reduce in a day or so to a dull ache that you can forget about sometimes. It’s important to remember that the good outweighs the bad and that we have to make the most of the good things rather than lamenting the bad. If it wasn’t for our expat life we wouldn’t get a 3 week holiday with Baboo (the Things’ nickname for Granny Wanderlust) and we probably wouldn’t even have gone to Jordan for Christmas.
Onwards and upwards
So we will get on with things and stay busy. We will each count the days until the next visit. We’ll drink cups of tea together over FaceTime and give each other Skype hugs (when it works). We will text on WhatsApp and I’ll upload photos over TinyBeans. How people did this before the internet is beyond me.
I’ll pull myself together. But for now this is rubbish!
The goodbyes never get any easier.