I've moved houses (and areas) several times and I'm the sort of person who moves on without really looking back. I don't generally keep in touch with old friends and colleagues. I'm not nostalgic for people or places. I've always regarded myself as having "shallow roots".

For the first time, I've just left home for long enough to have to say goodbye but with the firm intention of going back and picking up the threads.

And this time leaving has been very different. I've suddenly discovered that I've got lots of ties. Lots of friends that I'll miss and who say (sincerely I think) that they'll miss me. I've had dozens (literally) of phone calls and e-mails wishing me well. Friends even came to the station to see me off.

It's as though I'm attached to them all by bits of string, sort of guyropes I suppose.

In many ways it's quite overwhelming for someone who's always thought of herself as "discreet", not used to being the centre of attention (nor ever wanted to be).

I don't really know whether this time is different beause I've "grown roots" or whether the fact that I'm going back means that I'm making more of an effort not to turn my back. Probably both.

So here I am, sitting in Montpelier station having cut (temporarily) those strings, en route to the person at the end of the unbreakable string . . . it feels rather weird.

Heart

1

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply