Our final month in Cape Town arrived today. As usual, the South Easter is shoving us around; the grass everywhere is shrivelled brown. Last-minute Christmas shoppers queue at tills and parking pay stations like it's a Coldplay concert. It's crazy busy.
"Thirty sleeps to go," I tell my daughter.
"I don't want to go," she huffs, as usual. "I don't want to leave my friends." She gives me an angry glare.
We've been over this conversation many times in the past few months.
"You'll make lots of new friends," I always console her. "You'll be together for 11 years of school. Think what fun times you'll have." But still, her best friends, who have spent many a day and night in our home since they were toddlers together, seem irreplaceable right now.
We paid for our flights today; yesterday our passports arrived in the post - four shiny, blue visas from Immigration New Zealand in London. The words in our passports, "Permanent Resident" feel like a giant safety net, a second chance in a new country.
For the first time this year, I'm excited. In a month from now, we'll be leaving our lives here, and starting all over again. We won't be on holiday, even though it may feel like that for a few months. No... K will start the hard slog of looking for a job, in a recession. I will get the kids into schools, and carry on with my work. We'll start house-hunting in Titirangi; we'll buy cars and cutlery; we'll track down the best places to buy veggies and art supplies. We'll join the library. We'll study the gardens in Woodlands Park. We'll swim at Cornwallis and Piha beach. We'll climb the Sky Tower, and take photos on One Tree Hill.
My friend, Lisa, says we're like the old settlers - heading off for land we've only heard about, never seen.
Sounds nuts, if you ask me....
1 comment:
bNuts, but exciting.
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