An emotional farewell to the end of my contract 

I have an opening for this blog that you can reflect on or not. 

“Each experience in life, gives us a defined and unique feeling that we might not get somewhere else. That’s the beauty yet sadness of life.  

Because if we could have the same feelings evoked in different circumstances, then it would be hard to treasure good moments and hold them in deep regard enough to be nostalgic about.” 

Anyway, here we go…. 

Seven months in France flew by like two. Holidays came and went, school work kept me busy, and just as I was gearing up for the last semester before summer break, my contract came to an end. 

How had my time in France flown by so quickly? With only a few weeks left on my visa, I felt like I hadn’t done enough. There was so much traveling to do, culture to explore, and countless French dishes to try. 

Plus, things were starting to get better. I finally felt at ease among the French, able to understand most of what was being said. 

Having long conversations was no longer a stress. I was making friends, getting to know my neighbours, and falling in love with the little town. I had even discovered beautiful hiking trails in the mountains nearby. 

It was hard to believe that the end had finally drawn this near. 

However, sitting at the déjeuner table with my colleagues, I couldn’t deny anymore, that indeed it was time to say goodbye.

Everyone brought delicious food, all with the intention of sharing one final joyful meal together. It felt surreal to think that I had only been a visitor among them. 

As my farewell note to them was read, my eyes were teary. I had already started missing each of them; the kids, the school, the teaching, everything.  

I thought about the teacher I chatted with during evening breaks. We’d talk about her travels, my future trips, her grandchildren, and the mischievous kids at her class.  

Then there was the one who always gave me that curious, playful look, asking if I had found a lover yet. She was always warm and full of joy, constantly talking about her work, family, and cats. It was easy to be around her. 

There was also the one with the cute smile and grey hair, who loved athletics. He always kept me updated on Kenyan athletes, sometimes news about my own country.  

One day he invited me to lunch in front of the students, and they went all out with laughter, exchanging cheeky looks. Another time, he asked for my number in front of them, and the kids just couldn’t hold back their giggles.  

Anyway, I had a good time with his family and it was really kind and thoughtful of him. 

I had made a friend with whom I had always planned to work on our languages together—her English and my French—and to grab a drink, which we never managed to do. Now, I was leaving with just a photo of us, a reminder of all the plans we didn’t fulfill. 

As I looked around the lunch table, these memories flooded my mind. Each of my colleagues had become a unique part of me, and their identities wouldn’t easily fade from my memory. 

I got to talk to my prof ref one last time, the one who helped me settle in and handle all the administrative stuff, and it marked a good ending to my sojourning life. 

She shared her experience of living in the U.S. and how challenging it was to come back to France. Even after spending a year there, she felt like she needed more time.  

On her return back, she experienced a reverse culture shock and it took her a while to readjust as she often missed the States. “So, Abby, be prepared when you go home. It might not be as rosy as you imagine.” 

With that, she gave me one of the warmest, longest hugs I’ve ever received in France. It was such a comforting moment. I felt like crying in her arms, remembering all the times I had longed for such a hug. Where had she been? I had needed that since the moment I set foot in France. 

However, just then I realized, I wasn’t ready to go home yet. I needed more time. Besides, the thought of starting over in Kenya scared me as when I left, I had no idea these seven months would fly by so fast. 

It had taken me six months to adapt, and just when I was starting to have fun, it was already time to leave.  

No, impossible. 

I decided to move to a new adventure just close to Geneva, Switzerland. 

Now, I feel like I’m experiencing France for what it is and more. 

I guess going back to Kenya might have to wait a few more years, or not. Haha!