Does leaving ever get any easier? Do goodbyes hurt less? Can you train yourself to leave a life behind and only look forward? To wrench without feeling wrenched?

Yes and no.

I’m usually the one doing the leaving. From a young age I’ve felt the compulsion to choose the unknown over the familiar. And over the years I suppose leaving has become easier. Roller-coaster emotions feel familiar. Apprehension is an old friend. Being new is no longer scary. Starting over again and again becomes normal. You embrace change. You learn how to leave.

But the one thing that does not get easier is saying goodbye.

Goodbyes are always tinged with regret. Not regret regret, but a ‘I should have’ kind of regret. I should have spent more time with so-and-so, should have gotten to know someone better, should have put in more time, done more things, said yes more, appreciated my surroundings more. It’s the familiar panic of The Last Time. But time without context is meaningless and its easy to forget that I probably didn’t do those things because I was working or busy ferrying kids to play dates, or that in the luxury of the fullness of time it’s eventual absence was not on my mind.

And now time has run out. We are leaving South Africa and the regrets are creeping in. It never ceases to amaze me how life suddenly picks up right before you leave a place. As the departure date draws near and you start to feel the looming tide of change, you’ll meet someone who you connect with instantly and regret not meeting them sooner. Or you’ll discover an idyllic spot for trail running and wish you’d come across it years ago. It’s like life is taunting you: look what awesomeness can be found here, are you still brave enough to leave? I guess it’s the same as falling in love two months before leaving for university, or suffering though a family camping holiday only to bump into the super cute boy in the tent next-door three days before you leave. You make your decisions and life goes, ‘OK, you want to do that do you?…well look at what you could have here.’ Your resolve is constantly tested.

And my resolve was definitely tested once we decided to leave Durban. Life is more serious now and the stakes are higher. Leaving means losing. Or at the very least diluting. Friendships are felt the hardest. Some slip away with time, others dissolve at the first hint of change. Even the ones that last will never be the same again. And it’s not just about me anymore, my boys lose too. They are still young and adaptable, but I can’t help but feel selfish schlepping them all over the world when all they want to do is stay put.

The well-known saying goes, ‘collect experiences not things’ but I’m changing it to ‘collect people not things’. A beautiful place doesn’t mean a whole lot unless you can share it with someone. All the sunrises I watched on the beach during our Saturday morning runs, sure I remember the beauty but what I remember and cherish most is the company. Those welcoming, crazy, passionate, hilarious trail runners made the insanely early mornings totally worth it. And the coffee afterwards, of course. You discover the heart of a place when you get to know the hearts of the people in it, and I found out early on that Durban is a place of big-hearted people.

Like the time a group of mums I’d only met once at a baby group when I was new and friendless, threw me a surprise baby shower.

Or the time they brought us dinner every evening for a week after Pitter-Patter N was born.

Or the countless times people offered to pick fetch carry or make when Pitter-Patter N was in hospital and Papa B was away.

Or the time a thoughtful friend brought us lunch complete with desert when I was in the height of the packing frenzy and didn’t have a single plate to eat off.

That kind of open heartedness and genuine sense of community is what makes a place work, and when you find such a place you’d be mad to leave right? Yet here we are, packed and saying our goodbyes again. And it’s not any easier than the last time, or the time before that. In fact, this is the hardest goodbye I’ve had to endure, which proves my point, it doesn’t get easier at all. But I reckon I’ve done a pretty good job of collecting people over the last 3 and a half years. I’ve collected generosity, compassion, laughter, joy, commitment and support. Tolerance, curiosity, strength, love, patience and gratitude. I’ve collected soul sisters, warrior mamas and dancing queens, and my life is so much the richer.

But despite the sadness here’s what I take away from this most recent goodbye: the grass is not greener on the other side, it’s green everywhere. We do not leave Durban in search of something better, but in search of more of the same. And so I am looking forward to putting myself out there again, making new friends, collecting people not things. It’s hard work but when you find friends who inspire, challenge and support you, it’s totally worth it.

 

 

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