Leave-taking

"It would be good to live in a perpetual state of leave-taking, never to go nor to stay, but to remain suspended in that golden emotion of love and longing; to be loved without satiety." -John Steinbeck 

We are just 2.5 weeks away from our leave-taking, and despite the gaping carboard boxes that clutter each room of our house, the stacks of "important" papers with unclear destinations, and the seemingly endless todo list, I have to say this is a sweet time. This leave-taking time. 

At work, I am feeling valued and cherished for the work I have done and the work I won't be around to do (even if some of my colleagues are reasonably resentful). At church, I get extra hugs and blessings for safe travels. In my little neighborhood, so many sweet exchanges of well wishes and curious questions. Are the kids excited? Do you know where you will be living? Are you all ready?*

My kids are cherishing each pluot from our tree, each strawberry from the strawberry stand, and each book from our nearly bare bookshelves. They know our time is short. I too am savoring it all:  the Indian food takeout I ordered tonight, each lap of early morning swims, a visit from my dear friend, Elise. I am looking at the sky, the trees, even the sidewalks with awe and wonder. Because I know that we are leaving and that parts of this home I so very often take for granted are the very parts I will soon long for.

There are too many things to think about for packing--  how many pairs of pajamas, which shoes for which kids, puffy jackets or hoodies, how many jars of peanut butter is reasonable-- but we are just far enough out from packing that such details need not be fretted over. 

Instead, as we work on house packing, I empathize with my kids about missing out on blackberry season, trot them off to last minute swim lessons to ease my conscience, sit on the porch with the neighbor's kitty to read Hilo for the ninth time, and enjoy this beautiful place we call home. I also attend diligently to my worklist: arranging lectures, preparing orientations, prepping teaching materials, and doing my best to leave my colleagues with as robust support as I possibly can. 

At night, I upload our ridiculous numbers of photos (to preserve them from the theoretical risk of fire while we are away), download images from the web for Jonah to sketch in coming months when our internet access is less reliable, and drink tea with friends who come by to say hello before we have to say goodbye.  I cherish every second of my drought-shortened hot showers, delight in every cube of ice that magically drops from the refrigerator door, and feel deeply grateful for this present moment and this place.

Leave-taking: a state of love and longing. It certainly grants perspective.


* the answers are yes, yes, and no way

Comments

  1. AnonymousJune 22, 2022 at 9:25 AM

    Hi, Veronica... I will so enjoy reading your blog! I already am. And I can deeply relate as I'll be returning to Rwanda where I've been working with girls from SOLA (School of Leadership Afghanistan) who evacuated there last August when the Taliban took over Kabul. Just yesterday I realized I'll miss the ripe peaches on my tree. Sending you all good wishes on your big family journey, an adventure I know you will never regret.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

On motherhood

Image
                                                 Last Sunday was Mother's Day, of course, a day that we observed by wandering through Historic Downtown Quito and the beautiful Quito Botanical Gardens with our former nanny, Julie, who is visiting us this week (hooray!). We are now back in La Josefina, showing Julie our sweet home.  Today, we truncated our homeschool day so that we could sneak in a trip to the  finca  and a dip in the river before the afternoon rains. Jonah is quietly playing with Legos, Brynna is flitting back and forth from the neighbor's house playing imaginatively with a few local boys, and Dillon is on the front porch, doing math homework and birdwatching. Our soundtrack is the unceasing drumming of the elementary and middle school students practicing for an upcoming parade. Amazingly, I  have found a few minutes to reflect on motherhood, albeit interrupted by the demonstration of a very cool Lego soccer field, an appeal to  try to fix The Incredible Hulk
Read more

The Origin Story

Image
Paul and I met at a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer event in Berkeley, California in the fall of 2004. We were the only RPCVs under fifty there that night, save for a mutual friend who had coordinated the event and a classmate I had dragged along for company. During the course of that evening's conversation and a date or two shortly thereafter, it became crystal clear to me that Paul would be my life partner. And very early in our relationship, in a dark salsa club, trading stories about our families of origin and our Peace Corps experiences, we began to envision the adventure our family is about to embark on. . . now almost 18 years later.  We would finish our schooling. We would marry. We would have children. We would live somewhere we love and be of service to our community. We would travel the world with our children. And, when the time was right, we would take them somewhere for an immersion experience-- for the opportunity we both so treasured -- to live in another place, to
Read more

Sandwiched

Image
On Saturday 12/3, I received a WhatsApp message from my sister that my mom had taken a fall at her home in Santa Rosa and was in the emergency room. Mom was alone when she fell and not able to remember what happened. She needed stitches to a complex ear laceration, and x-rays revealed that she had fractured her pelvis. Ugh. She would not be able to go home. This was exactly the health crisis I was hoping would not happen during our year away. Later that same evening, while we were getting ready to attend a special Christmas dinner at a friend's house deep in the Amazon jungle, Brynna ran into a corner of our wooden boarding house and sustained a large cut to her forehead that required stitches. Unfortunately, the tiny rural hospital did not have the appropriate suture material for the repair. Thus ensued an hours-long escapade to obtain the suture thread and get it to where we were staying. Many thanks to 1) my dear friend, Alba who became an instant case manager, 2) Silvana, who o
Read more