Meetings and Partings

Saying goodbye to Manchester...

It seems every time I sit down to write about Manchester, it’s raining. Raindrops trickle down the glass of the window beside me and for a moment, I allow myself the thought that Manchester is mourning my leaving.

(Then I remember a friend recently told me it rains in Manchester 152 days out of the year, and I’m immediately humbled.)

I now only have one more week left in this city that I’ve started to call home. It’s surprising, and simultaneously wonderful, to know you can fall in love with a place so quickly. Let alone a place that you had no real ties to before moving there.

When I arrived in October (in the middle of Storm Babet,¹ lucky me!), I went out to eat with my husband the first night. He had already been here two weeks and wanted to take me to a great Indian restaurant. We were practically blown there by the wind. As we waited to be seated, this singular thought popped into my head: I know absolutely no one in this entire city.

Despite my attempts to stop it, the thought kept repeating over and over, growing worse each time. What if all that heartache of leaving friends/family/my job in the US was for nothing? What if I go the full six months never connecting with anyone? What if everyone thinks I’m annoying or stupid or loud or boring or all of the above???????

…But then I ate some delicious Indian food and everything turned out a-okay. :)

Alright, so maybe it wasn’t as easy at that. The first week, while my husband went to work, I wandered around the city, untethered and a little directionless. I wrote many entries in my journal and looooong handwritten letters to my US friends. There were moments when I would be sitting in my flat and the realization that I left EVERYTHING in my prior life would come crashing down around me.

But by the time November came around, I managed to set up seven ESOL teaching opportunities a week (four online classes as a PT job, three in-person classes as a volunteer). I got a library card and fell head over heels in love with the reading room. I joined a writer’s group that met in a local pub, slowly adjusting to their unfamiliar format and learning more about the members over beers afterwards.

In short, I began to put down roots all around the city.

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In a friend’s recent letter to me, she asked what spring was like in the UK. My answer: slightly less wet, slightly less gray, slightly less cold. (Key word — slightly.) She also asked me what I’ll miss the most. Easy answers jump to mind straight away, like the gorgeous Central Library’s reading room that makes me feel extra fancy as I write my garbage first drafts, or the “Lady of Leisure”² pseudo-semi-retirement lifestyle I’ve been lucky enough to experience.

But to be honest, with each passing day, it’s like a hand is grasping my heart and squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter when I think about all the people I’ve met and now have to leave.

Endings almost always feel sad, no matter what it is. The realization that you can never go back to this time, with these people, and have this experience ever again.

Two sides of my personality flourished in Manchester: my teacher side and my creative side. Teacher-Paige has been stretched and challenged. During these six months, I’ve taught large multilevel ESOL classrooms, smaller complete beginner ESOL classrooms, conversation classes over Zoom, and even merged with a walking group to incorporate movement into my English instruction. I’ve met students from Syria, Afghanistan, Algeria, Yemen, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Pakistan, Sudan, Ukraine, Saudi Arabia, UAE, and more. I’ve even gotten used to spelling words with extra letters: colour, favourite, behaviour 🙂

Creative-Paige connected with other writers, learning that, thankfully, creativity is contagious. Joining a free community writing group is a gamble, as you never know who you’re going to meet. Luckily, like my experience in the US, the first writing group I attended was a perfect match. The members were that rare mix of extremely talented AND extremely kind. (Is there anything better?) Their stories blew my mind, every single meeting. Monday nights soon became my favorite — erm, favourite — time of the week.

It’s almost comedic to think about the anxieties I had my first night. What if I go the full six months never connecting with anyone? My dear, what if you connect so deeply you don’t want to leave?

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We had a rare day recently where the clouds had managed not to completely block out the sun. Bless up. My husband texted, “Dusk walk tonight?” To which I immediately replied, “Legggooooooo.” One must never say no to a dusk walk.

That evening, we set off, no path in mind. We ended up walking along the canals as the sun shone off the buildings, a thousand little sunsets around the city. The water took everything and, as it always does, made them softer in its rippling reflections. Trains and trams rumbled by. Ducks and geese drifted. The sky transformed through every possible shade of blue before landing on a dreamy purple at twilight.

And my husband and I, cloaked in the beauty of Manchester, spent much of the walk in disbelief. Didn’t we just arrive here? How is it possible we already have to turn our eyes towards what is next?³

This feeling of being forced to say goodbye too soon keeps bringing me back to my study abroad experience in 2015. During my last week, I texted my family: “There are too many ‘lasts.’ You meet too many great people who can only stay in your life temporarily.” To which my sister replied, “But you’re better for meeting them.”

Almost a decade later, that sentiment has carried me through many transitions in my life. (Plus, I still keep in contact with those study abroad friends. So… some people do not stay in your life only temporarily 🙂)

Here’s another quote that I heard when I was back in the US for the holidays in December. I wrote it down, knowing I wanted to carry it with me through all future transitions, good and bad:

“Life is a series of meetings and partings. That is the way of it.”

So simple, so true. I hope we meet again, Manchester.

(Oh, who said those wise words, you ask? Why, Kermit the Frog, of course.)

1. I am an anxious flyer. When my plane was landing in Manchester, I remember thinking we were BARRELLING towards the ground. I squeezed my eyes tight right before we were supposed to land and… nothing. I opened my eyes to see we were high in the air again. The pilot came on and blamed Storm Babet, saying it was too shaky to land. (Did wonders for my flying anxiety. I became convinced we were going to die and I was never going to get to see Manchester after all.) The couple next to me noticed my nerves and asked me simple questions to distract me as we attempted a second landing. My first interaction with the kindness that I’ve grown to now expect from Mancunians. <3

2. When my husband first arrived to Manchester, he had TWO SEPARATE PEOPLE ask him, “Will your wife work, or will she be a lady of leisure?” We had never heard the term before, and immediately dubbed this time my Lady of Leisure era.

3. Munich, Germany! Eeeep!