Everything is so crazy right now, my people. Tomorrow is my last day of work and Saturday is my leaving do and Marcy is visiting from Olympia this week and it turns out that Stormy, Danica, and Danica’s two teenage brothers are coming with me for the first three days of my Raro trip and I haven’t planned the South Island trip at all and I still don’t know exactly what day in May I’m leaving New Zealand and I don’t know where I’m going to live when I get back to Seattle or what I’m going to do or anything and it seems ridiculous that I’m going back to Seattle anyway because even though I’m leaving Wellington next week I’ve got this big touristy limbo three-month trip in between leaving one home and returning to another and what the hell do I even make of that, you know?
It’s so big. It’s so big and insane, to think about leaving, to think about returning, to think about returning again. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it, I can only think about the tiny details. I got a hot new dress to wear to my leaving do. I’m having dinner tonight with Marcy at a new restaurant I’ve never been to even though I’ve walked past it a hundred times. My mom’s best friend’s daughter, with whom I grew up, has just moved to Wellington and is looking for a place and do I know anyone? I need to go to immigration next week. Giulia is having a party where her friend the aesthetician will wax partygoers’ various bits for a very reasonable fee, plus there will be Italian cookies. I need to sell my clothes at Recycle Boutique. Turns out all my crushes—and I mean all–are coming to my leaving do and I’m sort of wondering how I’m going to divide my time between them all. I have not nearly repaid my sleep debt from last weekend. Five new people have sent me Facebook friend and I am really behind on emailing and blog reading.
It is ludicrous that I am leaving. It doesn’t make sense. I live here, how can I go? I just made all these new friends and it’s almost Fringe festival and they want me to work on the refugee health team at work and Shirley is getting married on ANZAC Day. Everyone here keeps telling me not to go, to come back, and everyone in American keeps telling me to hurry up and come home, that they can’t wait to see me. Marcy says she is going to be the only happy person at my leaving do.
Oh, how will I go and come back and return and return again, one home to another to another? What will happen? What am I doing? How can I go?
Comments
3 responses to “A Week And A Half To Go”
Don’t worry about where to live when you get back here – worst-case scenario, I got a couch you can sleep on while you figure it out. Take things one at a time and see where it takes you.
As glad as I’ll be to have you stateside again, I must tell you that it does indeed make me sad that you have to leave Wellington, because it really has become your home in so many ways. I know you’ll find your way back there someday.
God, I don’t know the answers to any of that. If it helps, though, I think you, of all people, will go about the task of finding the answers well.
I don’t know what to say except that I believe you’ll do the right thing but I hope you’ll enjoy the hell out of it whenever you can. Also, y’know, couch in Eugene if you’re so inclined.