The ghosts of mummies past
So we’re two days back at school already and the children are nicely settled. I, on the other hand, am having a bit of a problem: I keep seeing the ghosts of mummies past.
I don’t mean real ghosts, obviously, but the essence of old friends who’ve now left Dubai. 2013 was a bad summer in that I lost too many friends to the siren call of ’home’ – but my mind doesn’t stop expecting to see them here.
It could be a car – a white L-reg Nissan Armada on (the old) Emirates Road, perhaps – or the shape of a tall blonde woman scurrying to pick-up. It could be the laugh of a brunette in a Prado; the place where I always helped my friend get her pushchair up the steps; or a corner of the school where I usually ran into a particular friend and exchanged hurried greetings (not to mention a full report on the Justin Bieber concert) as we walked our separate ways.
I understand that their lives have moved on but, for me, the landscape of school without their presence is weird. Five minutes ago they were here; now they’re gone.
Transient friends. It’s the penalty of expat life, I guess.