Again and again

One of the downsides of living in Geneva is the disgusting regularity where friends move. Some people deside not to deal with transients being of the school I'll-never-get-a-new-pet-because-it-is too painful-when-they-die.

Although I am not of that school I still dread hearing the words, "I'm moving to (Blank)" again and again and again and again and now it has happened yet again.

A neighbour and young writer with two charming daughters is being transferred to the States. I'll miss the coffees at a nearby café and conversations, the quick trips by her house, the rides to this and that event. No matter that much of the time I am not in Geneva, it was nice having her there when I was. I thoroughly enjoyed watching her change from wondering if she could write to producing a novel that is worthy of active consideration by agents. I've loved seeing her daughters grow and watching her creative mothering that should be turned into a how-to book.

I am practised at people leaving. Just a couple of examples:

The Couple Czech lived on my floor and soon we were spending much time together. Often a half loaf of bread, baked in Prague that morning and flown in on the diplomatic pouch, would be hanging from my door when I came home at lunch. Meals would be shared. Mika, my Japanese chin, loved the man more than me. If the man were home when we walked past, the pup would stop to scratch at his door only to be let in, given a place of honour on their couch and hand-fed salami. I sometimes got treats too. Then there was the day they, their son and daughter helped me with my flower boxes using French, English, Czech and German and laughing until we hurt, not because anything was funny, but it was just silly.

Then they retired back to their home country.

My Syrian neighbour and I would knock on our common kitchen wall signalling whatever, watch movies in PJs, make sure the other had food in their frigo after a business, trip, entertain each other's families and guests and share the frustrations and joys of our daily lives.

She moved to Paris to continue her medical training.

On the positive side of people moving away, I've had a tour of Prague with the couple as guides. They let me see a side of their country no ordinary tourist ever does. We had a catch-up chat just last week on the phone. And I now have a place to crash in Paris whenever I want. In April I will be making my third trip, Inshallah, to Damascus to visit with her family because they also have become part of my life, albeit distant. And so it goes...

I am sure the young writer and I will email, we'll read each others blogs. She'll go on with her life and continue to accomplish great things, some of which she could not do in Geneva.

If I had not had these people (and others) in my life, there would be less colour, less music, less laughter, less happiness. It is worth missing them when they move on. And if you ask why I haven't replaced a dog, it is more to do with the practicalness of trying to go back and forth on a train and hurting Munchkin's, the cat, feelings, then escaping the pain of losing. In fact I haven't lost anything when people move for the memories are always there.