The Queen goes home tomorrow.
The worst thing about being an expat is the goodbyes. Our lives are full of tear-filled, horrible, sad goodbyes. We have hellos too – joyous, thrilling ones – but the goodbyes hurt like hell. The hardest kind are ones like tomorrow’s, when we don’t know when we’ll see each other again. It’s easier to say goodbye when there’s a plan, a new hello to look forward to.
So I’m filling up my week in order to fill up the hole that she leaves – seeing friends, having expeditions, arranging playdates, finding new work – so that I don’t notice how much it hurts.
After 11 years, this is the one thing you don’t get used to.