Monday, 18 August 2008

Brace for impact

As time runs short, things start to change. My sister and I pick more fights. My mother's voice goes up a couple decibels to maintain a chirpy, cheerful tone. My dad keeps repeating "I don't want her to go yet" when he thinks I can't hear him. My cats, my sweet, warm, wonderful cats seem just that much cuter and sweeter and impossible to leave. Every moment seems longer, and shorter and sometimes it gets really hard not to cry, but my mom and I have an understanding. If we each cry alone, we can both pretend it isn't happening. We can both be fine. It doesn't count if we don't see it.

"You have to promise me," she keeps saying with a voice that hopes for humour, "that when I leave you don't give me that look that makes me want to come back and bring you home."

Move-in is at 10am on August 30th, and Frosh starts at 1pm. "What if I need time?" Davis asked me the other day, "I need time. I want a day to be sad and cry and miss my home. After that I can go to frosh, but I want time. To mourn."

Every day is a roller coaster, highs and lows. One moment I can't wait, I feel confident in the changing relationship with my mother, I'm excited for a new place, I'm itching for freedom. A few minutes later, I feel scared and alone and I want my mommy. I want to curl up in bed and stay there where it's safe.


Alan said...

Everyone seems to be so excited. "You must be so excited!" - standard response to talking aboutmoving away, all I hear about is excitement.

I must be horribly disappointing when I tell them I'm mostly just scared.

Thank you for not being exuberantly excited either.

ironic_nonsense said...

This post is why I don't think about it. My life ends on the 28th of August, basically. I can't handle thinking about the drive, or the move-in, or frosh, or anything. All I'm thinking about is my last shift at work, hanging out with Jacques' raver friends, saying goodbye to Eric and my last night with Gelato (which had better fucking happen...)

You know that I'm going to crawl under your covers and sob with you, right?