Posted by: das Mopf | January 28, 2009

And the hardest part…

is letting go, not taking part.
I just realized that I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to leave all those friendly kiwi, their hospitality and the wonderfully warm and sunny weather (though Paul says it’s the worst summer ever since they came here, which now is about three years ago). Neither would I want to leave stunning Auckland, busy Queenstreet with all the pretty tempting shops, the harbour with all the showing-off boats and visitors and the ever-gripping outlines of Rangitoto and the Skytower, nor would I want to leave my family, as annoying as it sometimes can be. I will miss Megan’s screams for her daddy’s help and her anger when getting me instead, I will miss Ryan’s whining for what he claims to be his tv, I will miss Paul and Ronel and their awesome friendliness, patience and hospitality.
Though I’m so curious what’s going to happen when I’m out and about, I’d just as much love to keep track of the kid’s development and to take care of them. Just a few days ago someone told me I’d be doing a wonderful job on them, though I’m not really convinced. But I’m there when they need me and I try to do my very best to be nice to them.
Still, after all, whenever I think of leaving my crazy, adorable, hospitable family, I feel a sting of anxiety, nervosity and also of remorse somewhere in my stomach. I just hate good-byes and try to convince myself that we still will keep contact via internet. Every good-bye implicates a new beginning, even though in my case it’s going to be studies of which I don’t know what to do with later.

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