Most of my departures are without good-byes. Family and friends have offered to accompany me to airports and train stations. I have told them not to bother. My reason has nothing to do with sad farewells, but an old love for the title of the film NOBODY WAVED GOODBYE, even though I never saw the movie.This year I left Bangkok, Dussefdorf, Koln, and London alone. No good-byes. No tears. No sorrow.A day ago Madame l'Ambassador's driver accompanied me to Aeroport Luxembourg. Francois didn't understand why I had to go two hours ahead of time. I explained about my fear of missing flights. It has happened twice and I've never counted the times that I've arrived late at a train station. "Pas de problem." Francois might not have understood my phobia, but he was Madame l'Ambassador's driver and I was the unofficial writer in residence. My wish was my command. Arriving at the aeroport I understood his quixotic opinion. The Grand Duchy is a small country and the airport terminal was correspondingly tiny. The queue before the check-in counter consisted of me. Francois smiled with pleasure. He had delivered me to the airport in time. I walked him outside to the Jaguar and before he got into the car, he waved good-bye."Come back soon."It was a good thing to here and I shouted back. "I will." Maybe I should make this good-bye thing a habit.It feels good.