On Missing Home and Hugs

‘I have learned that there is more power in a good strong hug than in a thousand meaningful words.’ – Ann Hood.

I can clearly remember the last time my parents hugged me. We were
standing by their parked car in Newport Gwent train station’s car park and all
of us were emotional. Mum and I were definitely crying. Dad had cried already,
earlier that morning, as we drove away from home. He’d pulled the car over at
the top of our driveway, announcing ‘this is so silly, you’ll be back in a year,
it’s not that long’ before letting out a few tears. We all did. It’s hard not
to when you know this is the last couple of hours you’re all going to spend
together for a year or more.

Now, we were at the train station and it was raining. Big, fat drops
of rain falling to cover our tears. Dad pulled my backpack out of the car boot
for me while Mum and I hugged for a long time. Then Dad hugged me too. Then we
all hugged together, arms circling each other, in a huddle. I tried to memorise
the moment exactly. I knew that we had Skype and that we could message each
other, but nothing can replace proper hugs, the sort where you squeeze each
other so tight, it takes your breath away.

It was hard walking away. They both got back in the car and sat,
waiting, watching. I turned briefly and waved but didn’t stop. I pulled my hood
up in an attempt to hide the fact I was crying. In the building, I went to the
counter and bought a bottle of water. The woman serving me eyed me kindly.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything else with that? A muffin or
cake perhaps?”

She sounded sympathetic. She could obviously see I was still
struggling with the goodbye. I shook my head and paid for the water with
muttered thanks, desperately trying to appear happier than I actually was. When
I glanced back once more, before I stepped onto the platform, the car had gone,
taking my parents with it.

On the platform I took a few deep breaths to steady myself and felt
strangely calm. The hardest goodbye was over – I had two more goodbyes to make
until I got on that airplane and headed to the other side of the world. Both
would be horrible, but no goodbye was as bad as that one in Newport Gwent train
station car park. I was glad it was over, in many respects. It felt as though a
weight had been lifted a little from my shoulders.

Of all the goodbyes I made in October last year, saying goodbye to my
parents was the one I dreaded the most. I’ve always been the sort of person who
gets homesick and I have really missed my parents in the past when I’ve been
away from home. When I was at university, I don’t think there was a day that
went by without me ringing Mum, even if it was just for five minutes. One of
the hardest things about living on the other side of the world is the time
difference – I sometimes think of things I want to chat to Mum about and almost
reach for the phone before remembering that she’s probably asleep (if it’s my
morning) or in work (if it’s my evening during a week day). Our chatting is
limited now to Facebook Messenger (thank God for Facebook Messenger!!) and
weekend phone calls or Skype sessions which usually last well over an hour.

Although I know that nowadays technology allows us to speak to our
loved ones in far off places much more easily than in the past (as Mum reminded
me this morning, when Nanna lived in Australia and Mum in the UK, they were
restricted to monthly letters back and forth!), I still struggle occasionally. Lets be honest, with New Zealand’s dodgy internet connections, Skype and messaging services can suck pretty badly. Technology yes – but only up to a point when you’re in NZ!! And no video call is going to make up for a proper hug and a chat over a cup of tea
or a glass of wine.

I am flying home for Christmas this year because as much as I enjoyed
Christmas in summer time last year and it was an experience to be away from
home for the festive season, I wanted to be back home this year and have
Christmas in the season it is obviously meant to be in – winter!! I am already
so excited about seeing my parents and sisters (fingers crossed they can both
make it!) again. I already know more tears will flow when I finally see Mum and
Dad at Heathrow Airport after 14 months away from home. Luckily this time
they’ll be tears of happiness at our reunion! I’m excited to see my friends and
hear and see what has happened in their lives this year, properly. Not on a
sketchy Skype session due to dodgy internet but in real life, in the pub, in a
café, at their houses, proper catch ups.

I’m nervous too, of course. I think it would be strange if I wasn’t
nervous. 14 months is a long time to be away from home. But mostly, right now,
I’m excited. The thought of a month back home (and a wee trip thrown in
beforehand for good measure – more on that once the flights are booked!) is
keeping me going while I work and save and see out the Wellington winter which
is beginning to piss me off. See y’all soon homies!! Get those hugs ready…