The first goodbye
Having the time of my life at my leaving party in 2008 with my family and friends before I head overseas for a year and a half I remember the hustle and bustle of the check in queue, the different languages soaring through the Auckland International Airport terminal, the greasy food at the food court, but most of all, I remember my Mum. She looked at me adoringly, her 22 year old child about to board a plane to New York with no return ticket. What must it be like for her? To say goodbye to me, her only daughter who is travelling alone - not knowing when she will see me again, and not knowing whether I will be safe. She puts on a brave face. I’m the one who’s a pack of nerves. I can’t concentrate on enjoying my last few moments with my Mum. I’m on auto-pilot only semi hearing Mum’s questions about money belts and boarding passes. “You’ve got to go Rosie Dose.” She uses my pet name. I feel as small as a five year old and not at all ready to face the world on my o