As I write my beautiful daughter is in the air flying back to Melbourne. The joys of arrivals are heightened by the knowledge of departures. Good and Bye.
I thought about the presents my children gave me for my birthday this year. 
One son gave me Gumboots so my feet would stay warm and dry as I went about my work. And gloves to protect my hands from the perishing cold. 
One gave me a weathervane so I could track the winds and could see how I was in the world dominated by weather. A center-piece for my life. 
Baby Sopsta, my Beautiful Daughter, lately known as Aunty Baby, gave me a pile of slate stakes so I could name my plants as I set them out, keeping track of the labels in my world. 
So I could not get lost in my garden. So I could plant beloved words in the soil of my other home. Slates to write on.
Every time my daughter and I take leave of each other we pretend that we are just popping out for a minute. We keep our voices light and breezy and never say anything deep or meaningful. We made the decision to do it like this because if we hesitate we just howl. And how could these things be put into words anyway.
So today I shall begin to gently fold all the treasured terrible goodbyes into soft tissue, patting and packing all the tears into their own wee virtual box. Tomorrow after leaving my incredible sons and their beautiful beloveds, I shall close the lid, stroke the marks and scars of previous shuttings, carefully latch the little gold hooks, then stow the wee box of me into that waiting corner of my mind where I can keep it safe and quiet, without letting the weight of it drop me to my knees.
I said to one of my driftnet friends the other night that I feel as though I have lived many lives already. We are all like that I think.
Have a lovely day.
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
38 responses to “Icecream and a Beach on the Eve of the first Goodbye.”
Your post helps me remember I only have a few more left with our teens at home and then no doubt we will be waving goodbyes as they leave the nest SOB. Must be very hard ((HUGS to you))
Love Leanne
We are all like that I think too. Best of luck with the good and the byes. It’s never easy. Mike and I (when we were long distance) used to say it was a good missing. Missing someone is never easy, but when you are grateful that you have someone that you care for enough to miss…that’s a good thing. Best of luck C! Hugs to you.
So hard to say goodbye. Thinking of you, darling. xx
What a moving post. I am on the brink of a wee cry. Those gifts are so loving, and the gift of your children’s presence (as well as presents) is such a treasure. May this time wrap around you until the next wonderful reunion. Your writing is beautiful.
that is the tough part for sure….saying goodbye!
What an achingly beautiful post, Cecilia. I live 500 miles from my extended family and only see them every other year. You’re right, these events, where we hug with real arms and then part with miles between us… these times can’t be put into words. Thank you for sharing. I hope you are comforted. Hugs to you.
Tough to say goodbye. You have to look forward to the next hello….
Celi you have me in tears. Such beautifully written words, so eloquently written. Saying goodbye to ones daughter – the other half of you – with such brave words. I cherish what you have written and read them over and over again. Affectionately yours V.
Wipe the tears. At least we have the benefit of modern communications – our parents were truly cut off at times, but we can Skype and email. My son will be in China at Christmas and my daughter in Northumberland, but we will no doubt have the odd chat and giggle.
Have a lovely day.
The memories of this brief summer interlude will help to warm you as you return to winter here. It’ll be nice to visit the farmy again. I’ve missed it!
Goodbyes are always hard when you live far from family but we have to treasure the great moments together and reflect on them when apart.
Not good bye. So long for now. See you later. If there are tears then they are the evidence of the love & the bond you have.
What a beautifully written, emotional piece.. thanks for sharing this little piece of yourself..
Bittersweet moments … onward to your favourite beach and your Father 🙂 Laura
” . . .I shall close the lid, stroke the marks and scars of previous shuttings, carefully latch the little gold hooks, then stow the wee box of me into that waiting corner of my mind where I can keep it safe and quiet, without letting the weight of it drop me to my knees.” So beautiful. Isn’t this true of all our partings, small and large? We tuck them away somehow, and they become part of us, and we go on.