We’re leaving Moscow. By the time we go, it will be just a couple of months shy of four years that we’ve spent living here; the longest we’ve lived anywhere since we left the Netherlands. We are happy to be going – for many reasons my connection with Moscow didn’t materialise in a way I thought it would – but this particular post is about leaving a place that you’ve lived in for some time. So many expats have short notice about their new postings, but we’ve known that we’re leaving for about five months now. And that knowledge puts a whole different slant on things.

It’s not exactly limbo, the situation that we’ve been in. The closest analogy I can think of is queuing for security in an airport. Your friends and family are waving you off, you’ve mentally said goodbye, and are ready to leave. But you’re just stood there, awkwardly waiting to get to the next stage. No one seems to know what to do. It’s too soon in the process to turn your back on your previous life (those friends are STILL waving, let’s wave again, shall I tell them it’s ok to go?) but you can’t quite start wandering around Duty Free yet, let alone board your flight. All you can do is stand in that queue, and get on with waiting.

I’m not very good at this. I was super-enthusiastic when we found out we were leaving; immediately ready to sort out the house, tell everyone on social media that we were going and LEAVE. But then, the actual leaving was so far away, what was the point? Momentum was lost. I sorted out one room in the house, and then stopped. With months to go, why bother? And now, it’s about two months until we are going and I have all of the tasks to do and none of the momentum. And my social media feed still hasn’t been blessed with this news, which is shocking in itself. (I am someone who updates the world on everything from my lipstick purchases to how many coffees I’ve been drinking, so the significance of this cannot be understated, seriously.)

And it’s not that I don’t want to go! I am so ready to leave Moscow, for many reasons. I now laugh sarcastically at my post from 2015 longing for snow (what a naive fool I was, I laugh bitterly) and I am very, extraordinarily, happy with our new posting because it is the opposite of where we are now, in all the ways. Perhaps I didn’t want to jinx it? Expat roles that let us lead the kind of life we have are becoming fewer, and so to get one like this, in that place? Well, you never know whether it will be taken away again. Best not to say anything at all.

There is one good thing I’ve noticed, however. To paraphrase Sarah Brightman (there’s a sentence I never thought I’d type), I’ve had time to say goodbye. Whether this is due to actually living in a place with seasons* so the passage of time is more marked or just being aware that we are definitely, absolutely leaving, Moscow and I have shared a long kiss goodbye.

For years we’ve had a ‘must-do in Moscow’ list on our fridge; it’s been there for so long we stopped looking at it, instead repeating things we already knew we liked to do, places we liked to visit. But for the last few months we’ve started ticking things off it again, and the benefit of this is that it’s made me like Moscow a little more, and appreciate the time left here.

We’ve been to an ice hockey match, seeing CSKA Moscow beat Avant-Garde Omsk (the team names!) in the finals of the Gagarin Cup, cheering along with rows of their military supporters. We’ve finally been to the New Tretyakov Museum – something I’m still kicking myself about not getting round to before – seeing the change in politics and culture in the last century through abstract and expressionist art (and being impressed at how many women artists are shown here). We’ve tried free skating on frozen ponds, and ice skated in the shadow of the Kremlin in Red Square. We’ve tried new restaurants, new parks, new malls. We’ve taken the bus all way round the Garden Ring armed only with a coffee and each other (and enjoyed it). We’ve been to the top of the Ostankino Tower and tried to spot our house, and failed miserably. We tried to spot the edge of Moscow too, and failed at that. It’s a bloody big city.

Moscow goes on, even though our time to leave it is approaching. We’ve realised now there are things we will never do, be it due to time, logistics or language. We talk casually about coming back one day, but who knows? This time to say goodbye has been good for us all. A time to make sure we appreciate what we have while we are here; to acknowledge the frustrations and irritations that make us happy to be going; and to realise there are things that some places just can’t give you, even though you feel like they should. I hope we keep in touch with our friends, that I keep the little Russian language I’ve learned (sorry for being such a lazy student Svetlana), and that I never have to eat dill again. Paka Moscow, until we meet again. Just a couple more months to go.

*Never again. If this posting has taught me anything, it’s that living in a place with seasons is vastly overrated. Live somewhere warm and sunny and fly elsewhere to see the seasons. It’s always a season somewhere; far better to be where it’s always warm. Sorry not sorry to environmentalists for this opinion.

** I took this photo of the painting when we visited the fantastic New Tretyakov Gallery. The story behind it is fascinating and well worth a read. Also it’s the only Russia kissing picture I could find that wasn’t army statues or beautiful girls. Which says a lot…