This is much worse than those tearful goodbyes at summer camp back when I was a kid. Although it is a bit similar… I have forged a somewhat new way of life immersed in a different culture far away from mom and familiarity. I have developed a few deep friendships and even adopted a “surrogate family.” What would I have done without the Collinses during my postpartum nightmare? I have picked up bits and pieces of a new language and am even taking home the best souvenir ever… a Welsh-born little girl.
I will miss the vibrant green of Wales when I am driving through our different-green American countryside. I will not miss navigating down those narrow British lanes, but I will miss the charming places to which they led, and I will miss the friendly faces that were waiting there.
Saying goodbye was just as hated and bittersweet as I expected it to be last Sunday. I didn’t really believe it was real until our taxis pulled up (yes, there were two of them due to the numbers of people and bags and cats we were transporting). I, then, had to say goodbye to our lovely neighbors, "the Geraints" and to the Collinses, who stuck by us until the bitter end helping us clean and clear out our house. There were gut-wrenching embraces at that last minute, and I wiped away more than a few tears as we drove away from the waving Collinses in our driveway.
The next morning the five of us, twelve pieces of luggage, and our cat travelled across six time zones to Chicago and then on to Michigan. We made it all in one piece, and a new adventure began...
To Be Continued
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