We left London in stages, the final one yet to come. But for the last 10 days in June it was just me and the youngest. A gift really. We had 10 breakfasts and 10 swim practices and 10 nights of homework and 10 walks home and 20 play dates and a weekend.
There were tears when Mommy and the others left. But then there was the build up to the end of school, the final projects, the last dance.
A couple nights after the others left as I was putting her to bed it started to sink in: "So Josh and Jessie will never sleep in their beds again will they?" No they won't. "They'll never be in this house again?" I closed the door to the two empty rooms and didn't open them again.
Midway through the final stretch she and I were home from swimming, having dinner and doing homework and I said something to the effect of how nice it was, getting all this done, nobody else around. But she gave me a look. She knew. It was weird to be in a half empty house.
And as the final days ticked down each night she put up a brave face, kissed me goodnight. But I could hear the tears through her pillow.
One night around eleven I went into her room. Even two floors away I could hear her sadness. And I stood by her bed and she looked up with red cheeks and in her eyes she was asking me what had she done wrong? And I had no answer to the question of why it hurt so much when she did everything right. She embraced it from the start, did everything we asked and yet, it hurt the most.
And then there were going away parties and the last everything: Last swim practice, last bus ride to Queen's Grove, last dinner with Olivia, Maddy, Darcy, Georgia, Franny, Lior. And the last trip to Westfields.
And then the last day of school. And she sat on the steps waiting for her bus and drinking Perfectly Clear, her fave morning beverage. And she looked up at me and said: "Daddy, I wish I could just bottle the air."
On the final night she wanted to go to the High Street and get Gelato Mio. Her wish was my command. And then we walked home and watched the tourists stop traffic as they tried to get their pictures on the Abbey Road cross walk. And then, just like a tourists, she borrowed a pen and wrote on the wall, thanking this place for the best year of her life.
There were tears when Mommy and the others left. But then there was the build up to the end of school, the final projects, the last dance.
A couple nights after the others left as I was putting her to bed it started to sink in: "So Josh and Jessie will never sleep in their beds again will they?" No they won't. "They'll never be in this house again?" I closed the door to the two empty rooms and didn't open them again.
Midway through the final stretch she and I were home from swimming, having dinner and doing homework and I said something to the effect of how nice it was, getting all this done, nobody else around. But she gave me a look. She knew. It was weird to be in a half empty house.And as the final days ticked down each night she put up a brave face, kissed me goodnight. But I could hear the tears through her pillow.
One night around eleven I went into her room. Even two floors away I could hear her sadness. And I stood by her bed and she looked up with red cheeks and in her eyes she was asking me what had she done wrong? And I had no answer to the question of why it hurt so much when she did everything right. She embraced it from the start, did everything we asked and yet, it hurt the most.
And then there were going away parties and the last everything: Last swim practice, last bus ride to Queen's Grove, last dinner with Olivia, Maddy, Darcy, Georgia, Franny, Lior. And the last trip to Westfields.
On the final night she wanted to go to the High Street and get Gelato Mio. Her wish was my command. And then we walked home and watched the tourists stop traffic as they tried to get their pictures on the Abbey Road cross walk. And then, just like a tourists, she borrowed a pen and wrote on the wall, thanking this place for the best year of her life.
Make sure she knows that sometimes people come back when they're grown-up, and get to live here forever. :)
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