rose in midair

just hear me out, the sun hasn’t set

something i have learned in my constant geographic transience (how’s that for an oxymoron?) is that both physical location and the company i keep is as impermanent as the breath i’m about to take. i remember when i used to be very sentimental; goodbyes were earth-shattering, ironclad contracts stating “i am going to act like i will never see you again, and my tear ducts are going to act like it’s the second coming of Noah’s Ark.”

i have a friend who is leaving Texas soon. i know that much incredulity surrounds his decision, and i know a lot of hearts that will grow heavy upon his departure.

i have thought every day about traveling to see him during his “last weekend here.”

but i no longer believe in last weekends, or last days, or last moments, or last seconds. i no longer find it necessary to call upon Noah to brave my floods of tears. i believe that the people that matter most are the people you are least obligated to say “goodbye” to.

whether or not i decide to go to celebrate and commemorate the stretch of time he has spent in our presence, i still hold him in the same high regard in my heart.

oceans are the least of which have separated us. 1,630 miles (i google-mapped it) are miniscule compared to the distances our thoughts have crossed to get to one another.

i nestle myself in the certainty that i will see you again. and again. i hope it goes without saying- and again.