She's 24 years of age, worried about getting old and has finally left a job that she loved to bits and boarded a jet plane as the first part of her big OE.
Never mind that the first leg of her journey saw a five hour departure delay at Auckland airport (as storms assaulted our beloved country last week) and two of these hours were experienced from the confines of the plane. She's done it; she's left the country for the adventure of her life.
And me, how do I feel in that for the first time in 24 years I will be having Christmas without my kids? (The other one is in Australia enjoying the heat and higher wages).
Hmmm isn't that what Christmas is all about? Sure, it will be cheaper, but perhaps not given that I'm certain I will still get international requests for support during the year! I know that it’s certainly made me a lot more focused on Christmas with my mum as there is nothing like not having something to make you realize what you do have and what is important.
For 24 years I have loved her and endeavoured to create a values platform for her to live her life from. I suppose my job is almost done. Our last few days together, yes she came home with all her bits and pieces (even wanted to keep a few of her beloved frocks, the ones she has secured from her hours of opp shop buying, in our in-house library) and we hung around together for three days.
We went out to eat, she cooked for me and we laughed out loud as we tried to pack within the 23kgs of luggage weight that she had been allowed, all her special bits acquired over her 24 years. I know I will miss her; she has so many of my traits it’s almost like looking in a mirror, but she's also her father’s daughter in so many other ways.
As she heads to the Cayman Islands to look for a hospitality job and join her step-sister's life of party and sun, I am truly envious rather than remorseful. Departure day arrives and we head to the airport, endure our last McDonalds together (we have always had common food ground in cheeseburgers) wondering how we will react at crunch time. We take one last photo at the departure gate and much to her disgust, I couldn't get the look right; she likes to take a great photo. We laugh as she deletes all that is left of this last moment together. Through the departure gate she goes.
I text that I love her (as if she doesn't know) and walk back to my car. The storm is approaching; I head down the motorway and the music plays ... yep you guessed it, there’s always a moment that is unexplainable in music-land in conjunction with the relevant moments in your life and this one was no exception. On comes ‘Living Next Door to Alice’. For 24years I’ve been living next door to Alice and I guess I'll never get used to not living next door to Alice. She is so much a part of me. I have watched her grow, shared her successes and her sorrows, laughed at her obsessions and her insecurities, knowing that she will always be loved and supported as long as I draw breath. She starts another part of her life’s journey and the one thing I do know is that it brings her closer to coming home and maybe working alongside me…
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