When I was in my last year of high school, I took a writer’s craft course. Which was amazing and enriching, encouraging and all that jazz… but (confession time) I sometimes fell a little behind with assignments. (Maybe it was that I was in my last year?) As well as all the stories and memoir writing projects, we also had a weekly journalling assignment. We could write about anything at all – just do one a week, hand them all in at the end of term and all would be rosy. But weeks slip by and I tended to do them in a great big chunk of writing. (I never asked my inspiring Mrs Davidson if she knew. I bet she knew.) I remember sitting at my parents’ round kitchen table, churning out a pile of these slipped assignments, including one inspired by the title for the 1961 musical Stop the World I want to Get Off. Which pretty much summed up my tired out brain in that last year of high school.
I’m feeling a little like that now.
But I’m finding out that the world is a hard thing to stop.
It must be all the goodbyes.
We’ll be moving in August, but we’re off to Canada for a visit early in July so this has been the week of goodbyes and a whole collection of lasts. My last Nitekirk. Our last Dinner Church. Last school assembly. Last school day. Last church day. So many times to hold open my arms and hug friends tightly, then let go.
We’ve had a birthday in the mix, too, this week and the arrival of our BC grandparents. They are here to celebrate the Spouse’s graduation which is coming up this week, but Beangirl was just delighted that they had come in time for her birthday. She didn’t want a big scene, she said, just some fun in the park with friends and cakes and “could we have ribbons tied to the end of sticks to wave around?” Yes, of course, my dear. I made some up ahead of time and then at the party, my dear friend Mrs. Stoffoli knelt on the soggy grass with a line of kids in front of her, choosing colours, cutting ribbons, and making sure that everyone got one. Even kids who gatecrashed the party went home with these ribbon sticks and there were piles of cupcakes for everyone who dropped by. And the rain held off until it was time to go home. A perfect party and a good way to say goodbye to our community here.
My lootbag moment – that image I’m going to tuck away in my memory and hold onto for a long time – is of the roundabout in the playground. Spinning fast and piled high with kids, all clutching ribbon sticks with the bright ribbons flying out and their laughter loud across the park. My shining new 9-year old girl was there in the very centre, surrounded by her friends, brave to hold on, ready to let go when it was time.
But it wasn’t quite time yet.
