I’m on the fourth month of my Los Angeles adventure and I have to admit it has been a bit of a roller-coaster ride. Change is hard, no matter who you are. Our brains simply don’t like it and they tend to freak out as soon as we leave the safe and secure zone of “but I’ve always done it this way!”
The process so far has been: “Ooh, ahh this is amazing” followed by “Oh my God, this place is insane, what am I doing here? then on to “I guess it’s not so bad, and the Mexican food is great.”
A question often asked is: “What if you only had five years to live?” Or the favourite of job interviewers everywhere: “Where do you see yourself in five years time?” A lot can happen in five years, a lot can happen in six months or even a week. But what if there are no options left, what if this is it? Today is your last day, no more one day I’ll learn a language, climb Mt Kilimanjaro, or do a skydive?
A week or so before the Christchurch earthquake, some 19 months after my father died, my family gathered to scatter his ashes. He had often joked that he wanted them to be spread in the sea near my parent’s home so he could float in and out on the tide and keep an eye on my mother.
There was no good reason why we didn’t do it sooner, and it took a great deal of persuasion, several arguments and a tad of negotiation to get us together on that afternoon. Behind our reticence lay one thing – we weren’t ready to say goodbye.