And the times...they are a'changin.

Well...it's almost done now. In a couple of hours i set off for the ferry to England, and after a weekend of more goodbyes, I will set off for Canada for the month of July and then some, befoire hopping a flight back to London for another brief layover enroute to Australia in mid-August.

Was schedulled to go in October, but a bunch of changed circumstances and a rising sense of impatience all combined to make me decide not to come back to norway only to wait around for a fall departure. Waiting. I've spent so much of my life in stasis, dormant and waiting for shite to happen. Made the decision to force feed this seed and see what comes out of it.

The flights were changed only two days ago, prompting a flurry of packing and mad panic that ensued with the effort. Two days to pack up a lifetime of memories. Little time to reminice as shite had to be sorted, which required me getting veyr hardassed and making decisions on the fly. I loved it, really. Exhillerating. One large dufflebag of winters clothing which Duane will take back to Canada for storage for me, and one huge box and two backpacks going with me to England, all to be repacked when i claim the luggage left elsewhere. This is the problem with being a gypsy-my stuff is scattered all over the globe.

The really hard part was what was left last night when said two levels of packing was complete. The leftovers that had to be sifted, sorted and discarded. Duane was nice and told me to leave it and he would deal. But i could not bear the thought of us leaving ( the flatmate is heading to England with me for the weekend), and Duane being left alone to sort though the reaminders and reminders of me. Overwhelmingly sad thought, so last night found me up till ridiculous hours baggin up things for disposal. But it's done. The room that had been mine for the past while is now annonymous once more. So he won't be left having to relive memories while he sorts through bits of me.

The other sucky part aboiut the past two days have been the goodbyes. I thought i was sneakilly avoiding those teary goodbye scenes i hate so much but skipping out of town wearly without teling people. Unfortunately, the flatmate let it slip and word spread quickly. So people have been dropping by for that one last coffee and a chat and I've had to do the goodbye thing way more then is healthy. This has long been an issue of mine. While i am delighted to be picked up at airports, i'm fairly fucking adamant about not letting loved ones drop me off when I leave. It's yet another avoidance tactic. Pretend it's all not happening, yanno? I'd much rahter walk out of the house waving a casual "seeya later" then a quiet reflective ride to an airport and a tear filled goodbye under the scrutiny of strangers. In a house you can pretend the parting is a causal breif dash out. In an airport there is no mistaking the fact, whilst surrounded by my possessions, that I am well and truely leaving.

To make matters worse, there will be two goodbyes for Duane. One today, when i go and he realistically knows that this is it, I won't be coming back here ever again. And another in August, as he is joining me home in Canada in late July. That one will be much worse, as it will come on the tail end of a two week visit with our friends and family, some of whom don't knwo as he has been opposed to telling them until a divorce is finallzed. All those familiar people and surroundings are sure to make the goodbye a little bote bittersweet when it comes.

These are major goodbyes for me- the signalling of somehting truely monumental in my life- the first time i set off on my own as an adult. I was kicked out at 16, but have not, since then, really made any important sort of decision entirely for me, irregardless of how it may affect others in my life.

And I am terrified. Excited, yes, but terrified. Scared I will get to the comfort of home, in the arms of people i love and trust, and just freeze in the headlights of life, to scared to take that next step into the great unknown. While the dare, the risk i look forward to taking has so much appeal, I wonder what happens if the seduction of familiarity lures me in and won't let go.