Skip to main content

The Leaving

When you were about ten, you started practicing. Off to camp for a week. Good-bye.

When you were thirteen, you practiced some more. Off to England for a summer. Good-bye.

When you came back, you started a new life at a new school, where you knew only three people: two girls who lived on your street and one girl from your grammar school. Good-bye grammar school people.

When you started college, you did the same thing. Good-bye high school friends.

You went to Italy for a semester. More practicing. Good-bye family. But you came back. Hello, again.

Then you transferred to a new university across the country. Good-bye again.

Then you came back for good. Good-bye college friends.

But then you got engaged and moved across the state to be closer to your love.

After a few months, you married. Good-bye maiden name. Hello, anonymous Johnson.

And you moved. Good-bye in-laws.

Then you moved again. Good-bye icky little town.

And again. Good-bye grad school. Hello hometown.

But then the job was sold, and the husband was laid off. You went to Michigan for more graduate school. But there is always an end to graduate school. You said good-bye to your dear friends and moved on.

Now you are here.

You have always left, always had one eye to the future, with little thought to what you left behind. Each time you leave, you miss your friends, and the familiarity of places and things, but time and circumstance have placed you elsewhere, so you move on. Friendships are forever, no matter where you are, right?

Now, the tables are turned. It is not you who is leaving. It is not you who leaves a hole. Time and circumstance have decreed this, and you accept it, but you wonder, what could possibly fill the gap they will leave behind? Who can take their place?

You can't imagine that anyone ever could.

Friendships are forever, no matter where you are, right?

Comments

  1. karenJune 20, 2011 at 10:48 PM

    Friendships are absolutely wherever and forever. As proof, I offer our thirty-three years, to date, with only a few months ever living in the same town at the same time. Still, whenever we are together, I know we're home.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hot Chocolate with Whipped Cream

Each morning, you stand by the window watching your boys until they're on the bus or picked up. You watch them leave your circle of safety and hope for the best. You can't know what that day will bring. Nothing, maybe. Or maybe a bomb threat. Maybe a math test. Maybe a lockdown drill. Or maybe a real lockdown. But on this day, there is something different. A rally. A walk-out. A demonstration. Your oldest son asked if you'd call to have him dismissed and bring him downtown to attend the demonstration. You want your voice to be heard, and even more, you want your son's voice to be heard, so you call the school, you pick him up, you drive downtown. You don't know what to expect, but the reality makes you weepy. A crowd of teenagers, many carrying hand-drawn signs stand gathered in front of the church, chanting. Adults congregate around the edges. A band plays, keeping time for the chants. Horns honk as their drivers show support. One man in a truck wags his fi...
2 comments
Read more

NaNoWriMo Check In

Now that it is almost the middle of the month, it's time for a check-in. For the uninitiated, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. Though I didn't sign on for the full experience (a new 50,000 word novel written during November; 1667 words a day), I made a goal with my peeps from the Super-Secret Society of Quirk and Quill to finish my draft of Into the Trees by Thanksgiving, or at the very least, by the end of the month. I began with 30,040 words, a hazy outline, and a slight addiction to Facebook. I now have close to 38,000 words (in addition to having shelved about 3,000 words in the course of revising). My outline has expanded significantly (um, like I have a middle now), and I have had several plot epiphanies. And I have turned my addictions to Lindt's Chili Dark Chocolate Bars. They're more productive.
Post a Comment
Read more

Dipping and Crunching

When you were eighteen, you applied for a study abroad program in Italy. On the day you received the acceptance letter, there was no one home. You wanted to call someone to celebrate, but couldn't reach anyone. All that excitement and anticipation was bottled up inside, and you felt like you could fly. But this was long before the days of social media -- long before the days of email even. So you sat at your desk in the dormer of your attic bedroom, with tortilla chips and salsa, dipping and crunching, dreaming and planning, having a celebration solo. This morning, twenty-some years later, you complete a big thing. A really big thing. And you feel like celebrating. But there's no one home. And though you could shout it from the rooftops at any number of social media sites, you think you'd rather celebrate solo. So you sit at the kitchen table with some homemade pita chips and tzaziki, dipping and crunching, dreaming and planning, and feeling very much like y...
Post a Comment
Read more