One wallow at the end of a summer

I've moved continents twice, and that makes me something of an expert. Expert... expat... same difference. And from my expert point of view, here is one tip. You will have days when you just need to wallow for a few hours. Go ahead and wallow. (I suppose this expert advice applies to any move, really.)

I had a wallowy day on Friday. Wednesday had been "new pupil day" for the kids. That was all fun and jollity. Thursday had been the first proper day of school, and they all came home exhausted. Their faces were white and drawn. They slumped. They had homework to do (homework on day one - what kind of unreasonable behaviour is that on the part of the teachers?). Homework is called "prep". I've never liked that. It smacks of a fib. The idea is, I'm guessing, that the children are so enthralled by their school work, that they find out what the teacher is planning on teaching the following day, and prepare themselves for it. Whereas we all know that in reality, prep is either finishing off a task that was started in class, or is an assignment related to what has already been covered. It's only very, very occasionally "prep".

I digress. Back to Thursday night. By the time slumping had been done, dinner had been consumed, and prep had been completed, it was late, the chance of an early bedtime had been blown, and I went to bed as exhausted as my children and hard-working husband, and feeling a bit of a failure, frankly. I mean, they're the ones starting a new school or new job. Friday was their second day, and I packed them off, and then had a good wallow.

I was washing up, and as I did so, I shut my eyes, and I recalled the sounds of washing up at my old sink in my old kitchen in my old home. I missed the mournful hoot of the trains. I missed Diane Ream on NPR. I missed the crickets, made noisy by the heat of the sun. I missed knowing exactly how long it would take to get to Dillons and back. I missed having a diary full of events and people. I missed my job, my MA course, my big fridge...

Then I recalled the early days in America. How I used to wash up, and shut my eyes, and miss the sounds I'd left behind in Scotland. The seagulls, the CBeebies signature tunes, the clinking of a zip against the window of the washing machine the other side of the kitchen, The Archers. I missed the shops on the High Street, the walk there and back with the stroller. I missed the busy calendar on the back of the cupboard door. I missed the sea. Boy, did I miss the sea...

It felt very strange. A deja vue, or a time warp. Memories of memories, re-feelings of feelings. It seems I have come full circle. I'm in Scotland, missing a place, where I used to stand and miss Scotland. But it isn't a full circle. It's two halves of two different circles. Life isn't always joined up, is it?

Anyway, I had a good wallow. And then I felt better. Now those are two halves of the same circle.

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