the long goodbye

Two weeks of goodbyes. Who does this? It’s like seeing how slow you can pull off a band-aid. It began last Thursday with a going-away party at my grandmother’s house, where I said goodbye to my extended family. The night couldn’t quite prepare me for the gut check that would come the next day when I had to say goodbye to my sister. You see, not only am I about to move from Texas to California, but my sister has just moved to Cameroon, Africa. That’s right, Africa – across-the-ocean Africa, six-hour-time-difference Africa, not-part-of-the-Cingular-Nation Africa. And Ginger is not just my sister; she is my other half (not always necessarily better). We’ve lived together twenty of my twenty-three years, most of those sharing a room. While this was probably my hardest goodbye, it certainly is not my last.

This last week in Texas is a series of trips between my two homes, Nederland and College Station. I feel like there is so much to do in both places, but I don’t have enough time in either one. It also creates awkwardness with people not knowing exactly when will be the final goodbye. I'm like Steven from the Ben Folds Five song. I, however, know exactly when those final goodbyes will take place. Each one a painful hurdle to jump before I can start my new adventure. And that is where my focus needs to be. The ache from all of these lasts will soon be assuaged by the joy and excitement that will come with all of the firsts that are waiting for me in California.

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
~ Seneca