Planes and trains and...

It is getting really blustery here, in the New Zealand way. When D asked Michael how winter was treating him, she followed with, “But this is probably nothing as bad as the winters you’re used to!” Michael agreed, but noted that while the outside temperatures were more mild than winters in the Northeast US, the inside temperatures here rivaled the coldest we’ve ever known. In the house in front of the fire that isn’t true, of course. It’s lovely and toasty and wonderful. But leave the lounge area and wander into the hallway (or—worse—the bedrooms) and you’ll find icy floors and chilly rooms. Brrr. Life without central heating is centrally cold.

At the same time, there’s something really wonderful about having the fire bring us together in the lounge, something old fashioned and sweet. The whole family gathers in front of the fire quite a lot these days, reading and typing blog entries and generally hanging out. Whereas we used to mostly work in our own individual spaces, now we are together, quietly (mostly). I really like it. (And, as an introvert, I really like that I can also bugger off to my room when I want and be alone in the cold where no one is brave enough to follow.)

It’s a quieter house with Rob in LA. He left Friday afternoon, on a rainbow-filled blustery day, and emailed us today to say that he’s safe and sound in the city of angels. Even as we miss him and note how suddenly empty the house feels (which is odd, because when he was here it didn’t feel like he took up that much space), we’re preparing to leave this place too and follow him. Tonight we had dinner with P and J who will look after the house and the dog while we’re gone, and now we’re putting the final things in suitcases, deciding how much of which things we need to bring, etc. Tomorrow we’ll take the kids to school for most of the day, finish last minute details here, go and sign the papers on our new house, and then take the train to the taxi to the plane to the plane to the plane. It’s a weird life.

I am a bundle of conflicting emotions about this trip. Five weeks away from home is bad. Traveling to a place where the days are long and warm doesn’t sound so bad. Missing the people we’re building relationships here is bad. Seeing the people we miss from the US is great. And on and on. This week has been filled with connection, with people who want to work with me and are horrified I’ll be away so long. Dinner with my new friend M on Monday and finding someone right here in the village that I really really like. Talking to F who wants to make it her mission to make New Zealand the right place for me. Notes on my desk from D who will actually miss me and was wanting to say goodbye. And today, K from work, finding out that I would be away and then coming back said, “Ah, but you fit in so well here, you so clearly belong here,” with such warmth and certainty I almost kissed her. .

While I’m leaving behind new friends and new and growing connections, these 40 days and 40 nights seem filled with meaning on the US end, too. This is the last scheduled trip to the US until next March or April. It’s the last time M and the kids will see folks for a while (18 months?—until we save up the gobs of money this trip takes). The last scheduled time with my students. The last goodbyes to Elijah at his memorial service.

There are beginnings and endings all over the place. We begin the trip with a family reunion which celebrates what would be the 100^th birthday of my grandpa and the 90^th of my grandma, if they were still alive. I end the trip with a goodbye to my students (whom I love) and an indefinite parting from my friends and colleagues at GMU—all of us wondering if I’ll be back. I do not know what it’ll feel like, do not know who I’ll be during the trip, or afterwards. But tomorrow, we’ll begin to find out.