It was the last day of school for Maya and my last Spanish lesson. It feels as if the year ended with a whimper, not a bang. Maya took the bus this morning armed with 30 strawberries to share with her class for an end of year party. She came home subdued, neither thrilled nor disappointed. It felt like just another day, partly because we had to rush across the park to get to orchestra and then violin lesson, which continue for a few more weeks.
I had not planned to end Spanish class this early. I would have preferred to continue until we leave. I have this desperate wish to learn as much as possible and know more and more. I was not ready to say goodbye to Amparo, so I am planning to see her again, perhaps with her son Andres; if not for a lesson, we will get together socially. I am not at all good at saying good-bye. I talked to Luis, the owner of the language school , about when I will be back in Quito. In fact, I have said good-bye to no one. I am not quite ready to leave, to quit, to move on.
I am not sure when I will be ready to acknowledge that we are leaving. I will avoid mention or thought of it for the next three weeks, except that I am challenged daily with packing everything we have in four suitcases each under 50 pounds. I am avoiding that task as well.
On the other hand, I have the luxury of three weeks to anticipate and prepare and organize myself for our departure. I had not planned it this way. I had understood that Maya's school ended on July 9, and had booked our flight a few days later; it was too late to make a change when I discovered my error. In the end, it has turned out to be a gift, these extra three weeks to say good-bye.
Blue Skies Again