closure

I had a friend once whom I loved as dearly as a sister. For years we celebrated every small triumph and commiserated with eachother after every disappointment. We had always been on the same wavelength and shared a strong, effortless bond - the kind of bond one feels will last forever. And then my friend disappeared off the face of the earth. One day we were texting eachother about Alias reruns, and literally the next day, my friend vanished. For over a year I tried contacting her via letter, email, phone, SMS, Facebook, family, and friends - all to no avail.

It would be a monstrous understatement to say that my friend's absence from my life hurt. Her sudden and unexpected refusal to have anything to do with me was a blow so painful it still takes my breath away. Not so much because it felt like a betrayal of my trust and the memory of all the experiences we shared, but because to this day I do not understand what precipitated this estrangement. A part of me (a very naive, childish part) likes to believe that my friend's longtime dream has come true: that a covert government agency (or even the FBI) has recruited her and that she is now kicking bad-guy ass like a blonde Sydney Bristow or uncovering conspiracies with a Mulder-esque partner, and is not allowed to contact her old friends (for security reasons, of course!). But no matter how elaborate my fantasies, I can't rationalise away the hurt, because in the end, I never got closure. And ultimately, that's what I struggle with the most.

So in the interest of closure, I thought it only fair that I should write this one last post - a farewell of sorts. As of today, I will no longer update this blog. As much as I have loved sharing my life with you, I simply don't have the time for regular updates anymore (as you have all already noticed, I'm sure).

This is my last year in Kuwait, and in addition to the massive relocation effort that looms ahead of me, I am writing for a local magazine, trying to complete my first historical non-fiction book, and dealing with all the responsibilities of a teacher and administrator. Oh, and did I mention that this sailing season is busier than ever? Racing, skippering, teaching novice sailors, and helping to run the club is almost a full-time job in itself. Of course, there's also icing on that cake: we were invited to Abu Dhabi for the Volvo Ocean Race, so my winter break will be spent in a most enjoyable manner.

And on that note, I want to wish each and every one of you health, wealth, and happiness - thank you for reading my ramblings... you were a patient and indulgent bunch, indeed.

XO

August catch-up

Don't get your hopes up - there's no way I can go into details about my activities over the past few months. But I can give you some of the highlights.

School ended on a messy note. Next year will be my last year in Kuwait, and although I didn't get to switch to French or Spanish as I requested (denied again! grrr...), come September I do get to switch to English 9 while also teaching one section of French I. I get bored easily, so a little change is better than no change. Granted, this means that I get to spend this summer preparing lesson plans, but it's all new material for me, and therefore worth it. The only major downside: I had to move to a new classroom on the last day at work, which means that when I get back, I have exactly two days to transform the war zone the former teacher left me with into something that resembles a place of learning.

In personal news, I broke my left arm right at the start of the summer holidays. It was a stupid accident, and made life annoying (I was in the process of reorganizing my apartment, so only having one functional arm was trying). But, on the bright side, it happened after the end of the racing season, so I didn't have to sail one-handed like Captain Hook.

So what am I doing this summer? Aside from hating the hot, humid weather with the burning passion of a thousand suns? Relaxing as much as I can, to counteract the cruel and unusual punishment that was last year. Catching up on reading. Writing quite a bit. I'm currently finishing a magazine article and taking advantage of the awesome libraries here in London to conduct some research for the historical non-fiction book I'm working on. I'll tell you more about it some other time.

I confess, I'm a little freaked out by the fact that it's now August. The summer is flying by (as usual), and I'm trying desperately not to ruin what's left of it by counting down my last days of freedom. But who am I kidding? Time is constantly ticking by in the back of my mind... Curses!!

And finally, I miss Andrea, Anita, and Kirsten, who left Kuwait for good in June. I just can't imagine being back there without them. I don't care if I meet perfectly lovely new people in September; they couldn't possibly hold a candle to my three friends.

So I guess I'm suffering from a bit of panic, with some sadness thrown in for flavour. I just really hope that between sailing, writing, and the relocation project, I'll be too busy to dwell on the fact that my life in Kuwait is definitely changing.

Prospero's Children

Every year, around this time, I reread Jan Siegel's Prospero's Children. And every year, for over a decade now, I am haunted for days by the poem that opens the novel. I am not sure why this particular poem has such a powerful effect on me. Whatever the reason may be, I wanted to share the author's untitled verses with you.

When dawn was grey you went to catch the tide
leaving me waking in an empty bed
for I was loved and loved but never wed
and left alone to hope and pray and fear:
God speed you back to me, my bonny dear.

The storm came screaming from the ocean's heart
shredding the clouds, whipping the waves to foam;
a broken spar was all the sea sent home
when darkling night gave way to morning drear.
No last farewell for thee, my bonny dear.

I went to church but not in bridal white
and sang the hymns, although you did not come,
and laid pale garlands on a vacant tomb
and said a prayer for no one else to hear:
God keep your soul somewhere, my bonny dear.

Where once I kissed your cheek the fishes feed
and mermaid-children steal your finger-bones
to play at dice, and on your bed of stones
the whale-songs echo through your hollow ear:
Sleep well forever there, my bonny dear.