En route

I wrote this last night while en route from the island to Zagreb. 

"So today was my last day in Veli Lošinj. We went swimming early, straight after breakfast without even clearing up first – such a treat. At Rovenska we went straight into the cool crystal clear waters, and we swam and played catch with the lovely manky old tennis ball we’ve been playing with for years. This time Mama managed to hit me in the head once and then right in my left ear, making it ring temporarily. “Child abuse” I screeched, but really I couldn’t complain having hit her in the face a few days previously and awarding her with a fat lip.

This year, leaving my Mama has made me so sad. I couldn’t keep my tears back and I feel a huge lump in my throat. It always affected me like this as a child – with delight I always arrived and when we left I felt bereft and somehow orphaned.

It’s hard being a child of two cultures, constantly torn between the two. Or perhaps, rather than being torn between two cultures, it’s being torn from those I love that makes me sad.

I feel sad thinking of her alone in the little flat now, though I know she will enjoy the peace and quiet, as well as occasionally perhaps feeling a little lonely. I find it hard to bear thinking of anyone I love being unhappy. I wish she were coming with me on this seven hour coach journey to Zagreb. Or I wish she would be there already, waiting for me, having made my bed and, perhaps, prepared some chicken soup for my arrival, but I know that the Zagreb flat will be empty and, for the first time in two weeks, I’ll be sleeping in a room on my own.

I don’t think it’s possible to have the happiness without the corresponding sadness and I suppose that the level of my sadness this year is a sign of how much I have loved being on the island with my Mama.

I have a day of work and two nights sleep in Zagreb, before I catch a flight back to my new husband, who, it must be acknowledged, I have missed."

I woke this morning feeling no less sorry for myself, but to wake on the first day to have breakfast alone after two weeks of breakfasting with someone is just quite odd. Plus which the vile builders under the window woke me by their arguing and shouting: not a nice way to wake up.

Anyway, just got some messages from my Mama which was lovely, and no doubt after a nice cup of tea everything will become rosier. It always does. As I look out of the window, the sun is finally shining through the clouds.