Rearview.

8.20.15

My goodbyes happen slowly. They creep in on silent evenings like tonight, begging me to flirt with nostalgia one more time. I sit here with crossed legs and bloodshot eyes, staring into the light of my computer, frantically trying to bring justice the ache consuming my heart.

The greatest paradox is found in the desire to recall and relive a memory, without feeling the anguish responsible for the absence of it. The human condition is a blessing and a curse. I could type those words over and over until it became an anthem to walk down the street to.

The part that keeps me up at night, the very thing that manages to keep words cascading from my fingertips, is my impulse to wake up and do it all over again. I want the hard, slow, painful goodbyes. I want to feel joyful and reminiscent and excited and bountiful. Even if that means I will become overwhelmed with despair and loneliness and curiosities and misery.

I wake up every morning with the intention of being fully human, and because of that, I wake up with the intention of being loved and adored and despised and ridiculed. I want all of it.

Do you want to know a secret?

The tears stop. The body heals itself. The heart moves on and loves again and re-learns how to walk and run and glide and soar.

Your humanness is surreal. Your life is the best and worst journey you will ever embark on. Be better because of it. Be big when life asks you to move, and be small when life asks you to stay put. Be willing to speak up. Be content when silence knocks on your door. Be bold and vast and endless and perpetual in the way you go about loving. Be brave. Wake up wanting to grasp the experience that is your life.

Goodbyes happen long after your initial departure.

As I mourn the ending of my summer, I rejoice in having the freedom to remember.

Friends, thank you for sharing your hearts and your days with me. Thank you for showing me how incredible the human experience can be when you share it with one another. I’m grateful for your immediacy in receiving our love, and your generosity in distributing so much of your own.

I’m starting to believe, when your memories cut deep enough, you never truly say goodbye. I’m thankful for that.

-b

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