In just under 6 weeks time, hubster and I will be moving back to the UK. It’s been a long time coming, and after me having lived in South Africa for 35 years, and hubster well over 40, we know we are ready to go.
As I sit at my Cape Town desk this morning, I’ve caught the sun rise, and in doing so have watched the reveal of the mountain, and the varied signs of life as cars and people head to work and school. And all the while I’m reminded of how lucky I am to have this spot next to the window, and how magical it is to watch the day dawn. And just as valuable, how these sightings will soon become memories.
That’s the thing about moving, the farewells, the realisations and the retaining of memories. And with this I find myself pausing often . . . taking a moment to remind myself how this is the last time: I will be seeing this, walking this way, driving my car, greeting my colleagues, going to yoga class, socialising with these people, seeing the bluest of blue skies, and touching the soil of our Cape garden.
Moving on then. A new adventure is ahead, and yet the goodbyes will be oh so very hard.