I'm in a really bad mood. Bad as in moody and sort of sad-irritated-confused. I'm sad because although work today was great (I went to see HP6 with Lilian), it was also my last day. And I'm irritated and confused because I didn't think for a second I'd miss them. In fact, up till the last minute, I had no trouble going. We got back a quarter of an hour early and I would have left there and then if Lilian hadn't wanted to show me her pokemon cards.
When I did leave, more or less on time, Stevie (who had been sulking because we hadn't had time to play hide and seek) came to give me sloppy baby-kiss, and I said goodbye to Mme M (la bise, like old friends) and Lilian gave me a drawing to take home and put with my collection.
Then Mme M remembered to give me back the tupperware box I'd brought the brownies in (Jehal is here, getting them out of the house intact was a real challenge of stealth and beguilement), and I found Lilian's water bottle in the car and gave it back, and stalled getting out - not for the first time - and in the end my leaving was rather uneventful.
I decided to go home through Corenc and La Tronche. It's prettier than going through Meylan centre, lots of narrow, windy roads and hanging vines and flowers and old houses and stone walls. I found that I didn't want to listen to the radio, and that the visions of the Vercors in the sunset was somehow tinted in a sort of sadness, and this is where the confusion came in.
You see, I'm usually a heartless bitch when it comes to goodbyes. I never cry. Perhaps this is because I've never lost a family member or a friend, but I just don't feel that sad when I'm saying goodbye to someone, even someone I really love. After all, since we're such good friends, we'll see each other again, won't we? Technically I know we might not, but my experience so far belies this theory, of course we'll meet again. It's inevitable. And there's always the phone and the net to make sure they're ok.
Funny, then, that saying goodbye to this family feels so sad. Perhaps because I won't be keeping in touch with them. I did tell them to ring me if they needed me again, but I might not be available. There's little chance of us seeing each other in the street, with them living away in the country. And I'll soon be caught up working for the A's, and then I'll forget about them. Is it that, the fact that I'll end up forgetting just how much fun I had there, is that what's so sad?
Where is my cold, stony heart when I need it? Where is my selfishness? When did I actually allow myself to care for this family?
My headache isn't going away. I think it's due to a stiff neck. I always hurt somewhere these days, I really do need to see a doctor.
I'm surprised at how much it hurts. And that had made me realize something else: that I'd never in a million years be able to tell them how much I like them. Like with everyone else, it's easy to tell other people how much you love one person - but near impossible to tell the person themselves, in the words that come out of you mouth. Show them, with presents and actions, perhaps, but if you don't usually say it, the words don't come.
They're only words, you'll say. Well, I'm a writer, and words are the tools I wield to my own ends. Though maybe I should learn to use them properly before I try making a living out of it.
When I did leave, more or less on time, Stevie (who had been sulking because we hadn't had time to play hide and seek) came to give me sloppy baby-kiss, and I said goodbye to Mme M (la bise, like old friends) and Lilian gave me a drawing to take home and put with my collection.
Then Mme M remembered to give me back the tupperware box I'd brought the brownies in (Jehal is here, getting them out of the house intact was a real challenge of stealth and beguilement), and I found Lilian's water bottle in the car and gave it back, and stalled getting out - not for the first time - and in the end my leaving was rather uneventful.
I decided to go home through Corenc and La Tronche. It's prettier than going through Meylan centre, lots of narrow, windy roads and hanging vines and flowers and old houses and stone walls. I found that I didn't want to listen to the radio, and that the visions of the Vercors in the sunset was somehow tinted in a sort of sadness, and this is where the confusion came in.
You see, I'm usually a heartless bitch when it comes to goodbyes. I never cry. Perhaps this is because I've never lost a family member or a friend, but I just don't feel that sad when I'm saying goodbye to someone, even someone I really love. After all, since we're such good friends, we'll see each other again, won't we? Technically I know we might not, but my experience so far belies this theory, of course we'll meet again. It's inevitable. And there's always the phone and the net to make sure they're ok.
Funny, then, that saying goodbye to this family feels so sad. Perhaps because I won't be keeping in touch with them. I did tell them to ring me if they needed me again, but I might not be available. There's little chance of us seeing each other in the street, with them living away in the country. And I'll soon be caught up working for the A's, and then I'll forget about them. Is it that, the fact that I'll end up forgetting just how much fun I had there, is that what's so sad?
Where is my cold, stony heart when I need it? Where is my selfishness? When did I actually allow myself to care for this family?
My headache isn't going away. I think it's due to a stiff neck. I always hurt somewhere these days, I really do need to see a doctor.
I'm surprised at how much it hurts. And that had made me realize something else: that I'd never in a million years be able to tell them how much I like them. Like with everyone else, it's easy to tell other people how much you love one person - but near impossible to tell the person themselves, in the words that come out of you mouth. Show them, with presents and actions, perhaps, but if you don't usually say it, the words don't come.
They're only words, you'll say. Well, I'm a writer, and words are the tools I wield to my own ends. Though maybe I should learn to use them properly before I try making a living out of it.
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Afterthought: I was only with the M family for three weeks. How much would it have hurt if I hadn't been kept on with the A family? How much will it hurt in a year, when I'll be leaving them to train?
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