Just like her mum

Wednesday 16th December, 2015

Dear Joan,

I wish I could leave this entry empty and you could just read it and understand everything.

I have started disconnecting the utilities, one car is on eBay, the steam cleaner is booked. Jobs are being ticked. At the same time some are unticked – the most prevalent one at the moment – the prospective tenants decided to take a place elsewhere. Not the end of the world – but just an added stress I had in fact thought we had offloaded.

I misjudged the big kid’s emotions.

She is often short with me, rude, purposefully not saying I love you. I decided to talk to her about it yesterday – in a place of calm and love. Talking about how we would be feeling all sorts and that it is ok – that I am too.

Then the tears began.

They didn’t stop and became sobs. Lots of them.

She is sad about goodbyes and missing people. The apple doesn’t fall too far from that tree.

We sat for an hour after bedtime, just hanging out. Everything has been so mental lately that I don’t think she has had a whole lot of quality time with me either.

I find this hard to write about. Makes me feel like I have failed her a little.

The bigger picture – the adventure – the thrill – the different cultures – people – places.


Finishing this one feeling a little empty.

Love you Joan,



One comment

  1. Joan · December 21, 2015

    Dearest Eve

    My words have been dormant, awaiting the right conditions to respond to the many thoughts that you have shared; particularly in regards to the highs and lows of your pending exit of the Home Country. I feel privileged to be the recipient of your words; privileged to be Joan.

    Now, picture the pope in his bespoke pope mobile, driving down the streets of Rio or wherever and there are people everywhere waving flags and babies and flowers and holy merchandise for him to bless. He is taking the road less travelled (for how many people get to be pope?), mind you, from behind a bullet-proof shield, and the people on the street are beside themselves with joy at seeing a man they probably never thought they’d see and oh what a fan-flipping-tastic day it is to be a Roman Catholic.

    Now picture yourself, your family, the suitcases you are living out of and all the stress and anxieties ahead as you traverse a different road, one less travelled by papal representation. Unlike our pope, your road is both lined with supporters and those anticipating your homeward return. The latter wish for your contentedness with their perspective of the world; for this is the order that things should be in and an order that you are part of. They are not waving flags or flowers or babies or plastic moulded goods to be blessed. If they had placards, they would say things preceded with “what if”, questioning your resolve to embrace this pending adventure, as if you hadn’t cussing thought through every single one of those “what ifs” and then some yourself. So many of the “what ifs” don’t matter one if.

    Life is peppered with amazing moments that only find you when you put yourself forward as a candidate worthy of having them. You don’t need me to tell you this as you already know it for yourself. It takes courage to invite change, to question routine, to migrate, to take risks and to step out from behind the bullet-proof shield. “Don’t be afraid to give up the good for the great”, said J.D. Rockefeller, which is exactly what you are doing, Eve, and what you are living. You are not afraid to give up the good; you are not afraid of taking a road to the great.

    Love, love, love



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