Saying goodbye. It sucked. We said good-bye to the house, to the people that lived there with us and to our life in Argentina that we had been living for 7 ½ years. I had been anticipating this goodbye for almost a year.
Sporadic airport closures for the last few weeks leading up to our departure made air travel difficult to predict for. There was a Chilean volcano that was purging its self of ash and had gummed up flying locally as well as in other parts of the world. While delayed, our flight was looking good for departure. We said tearful good byes to Jenny, her baby Franchu, her husband Fernando and Lisette. We were all loaded into the car. With one turn of the key, it was clear that the car battery had died. Whatever sentimentality, nostalgia and sadness I was feeling quickly left my body and mind as we needed to solve for this latest logistic challenge.
After GM made a panic jog down the street to some neighbors for jumper cables, we managed to get the car ready for the ride to the airport. We said good-bye again. At this point, I really didn’t have any more goodbyes left in me. I had been saying good-bye a lot lately and I was done.
Needless to say, we made our flight and made it to Santiago without incident. We wheeled all our stuff into the conveniently located Airport hotel. We had a Jacuzzi and a swim, the kids had room service, we ventured into the hotel restaurant and I took a deep breath. The departure was over and the adventure had begun.