Recently, at the end of this school year, I had the opportunity to see hundreds of goodbyes. Near the end of the day I walked over to the year 9 area to say goodbye to my friend Kaiya. 

I was surprised to see many other year 9's who were also doing the same, but in what I felt in a very childlike way, there were tears, extra long hugs, everyone wandering around the hallway mumbling "good luck" and "I'll miss you". The teachers did not feel like breaking up the parade, but you could tell they found the goodbyes pretty stressing.

I saw pretty clearly that day that these teenagers that were a year older than me still did not have much experience in saying goodbye. 

I've had so many goodbyes in my life I've learnt how to say goodbye over the years. I've never had a friend for longer than about 4 1/2 years. Apart from my family. I do have friends that I supposedly met when I was like three, but I don't remember them so we have to get to re-know each other. It is hard, but I've learnt to be almost happy when I do. Because I've always regretted my last memories with someone being sad. I wanted them to be worthwhile remembering.

I suppose some of you might know that from my 14th birthday. (although overall I'm a very emotional person). :)

Like any other journey, my journey started with a goodbye. Back then though, I wasn't so good at it.

It was near the end of year. I was in Sunday school for the last time with the other kids in St Columbs -(one of the main churches that supported us as missionaries in Russia). Mum and Dad had started going to that church for a few reasons. When there was just Mum, Dad and me, it was much cheaper to have an apartment. So we were in the city. We didn't have a car at first, so we caught the train. (Darwin people, big cities have their own trains that are more like busses. Some of you might know visiting down south) St Columbs was nearby our home and near the train-line. We also liked the way that Anglican churches do Communion a lot. 

And there were many goodbyes. The Sunday School teacher gave me a knitted "bananas in pyjamas" finger puppet, which I still have today. The question is, is it B1 or B2? Who invented those names? It probably doesn't matter since they act and look exactly the same.

She gave it to me so I could remember my time at Sunday School. (Which only sort of helped, because I remember this time best now). She gave them to other kids too.

She asked us each where we were going.

"Russia"- I announced once it was my turn. It seemed normal to me to move that far. But I probably didn't realise how far it was. I had gotten over the surprise, but I was still really sad that this was our last day together in a long, long time.

The old lady replied with a fake surprise. Now I know she most likely already knew that. My parents would have told her. But I was happy to hear her surprise. Its fun to brag about something unusual, isn't it?

"Russia?!"- she answered, eyes widening.

I gingerly nodded my head with a huge smile.

My journey began with a goodbye. And this was one of my first. Mum must have felt terrible, and I'm sorry for her. It was time we were going, but I was resisting her urging pull, sobbing, wanting to stay. 

Goodbyes are hard. This one was no different. But I'm so glad now that it happened. Every goodbye is worth it, because it allows you to move on to what is important next. 

I know a song about that that I think there would be a copyright problem if I wrote down the whole thing. But its called "The Call" by Regina Spektor. It is in the end of the Prince Caspian movie, but when I hear it I hear something different than fantasy. I hear Russia.






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