The cacophony of crickets brings me peace, as I sit on my porch and welcome the moon shining down upon a magical Carolina evening. My hair no longer sticks to my face, but blows gently in the wake of the passing summer storm. I am comforted by the crickets. They are always there, singing happiness or lamentation, no matter where I am in the world or when.
Another farewell party has been and gone. This time a farewell dinner with my beautiful team workers from work. This is after a morning spent playing in the pool with Kelly, a team teacher, from another school. The giggling of our children, chasing each other in the pool could be heard in the background as we caught up with our lives, past, present and future.
I try to ignore the brevity of the fact, that I soon would no longer occupy space with my friends in North Carolina. The farewell parties linger for days into weeks. Why? Because it’s the only way I can say goodbye. Its the only way I know how. Drag it out. Lessen the pain. The more parties I have, the more memories I can stuff into the beautiful-people suitcase of my brain. I don’t want to say goodbye, so I make it so there is one more day for us to meet, until eventually the plane will no longer wait and I run.
You would think I would be used to the frequencies of goodbyes in my life. I numb myself just to cope sometimes, and I hope my friends don’t see that as me not caring. I wish I could make use of the time, to tell my them how much I love them, how much I’ll miss them, and how much they mean to me. But I can’t. I can’t breathe this finiteness. I hope that by the eternal farewells, they’ll just know that I’m struggling to let go. It is not goodbye, it is I’ll see you later. My heart swells with friends trapped inside who I can see later through a certain song, a wafting smell, or a secret joke.
Through my memories they return like the full moon and follow me like the faithful crickets.
How do you say goodbye? Leave a comment below