April 20: ile Maurice - Au revoir et Merci

It is late, it is dark. All the birds in the giant tree by my room (chambre 12) are asleep. Staff at Chez Vaco are all heading back to their homes for the night. We have swapped email addresses and home addresses, vowing to keep in touch and to meet again. An ice cream van chimes and speeds down the dark lane to Pointe aux Cannoniers that has been home for this past week. It crunches and smashes its way down the pot-holed tarmac, narrowly missing the stray dogs that tramp around there. I leave at six tomorrow morning, already it is one o'clock. My new bestfriend from Paris hands me another rum - mixed with lychee juice - I guess the rest of the packing can wait.

Why is it that goodbyes are so hard? Only a week ago I was berating my decision to give up a job I enjoyed, a flat that I adored and the security of a city that has adopted me and given me so much. I felt so sad saying goodbye to friends. I felt drained and exahusted as I packed up the last of my things into boxes and reflected on what had been in Perth. Why is it that goodbyes are so hard? Possibly, because they serve to teach us the true value of things.

Only in giving something up can we hope to appreciate its worth. Instead of feeling sad, perhaps we should try to be grateful then? Appreciative of an important lesson Life can teach us. Easier said than done... all goodbyes are emotional.