On some mornings, it hits like a wave. A tidal wave. Out of nowhere.
I hadn't cried for days.
For days, I'd been preoccupied with "lasts": my last weekend with dear friends, my last time at church, my last hug with this person or that person. They're bittersweet, these "lasts". Each one pulls me away from the ones I'll miss, yet nudges me toward those whom I've been missing all this time. And it's simple physics, isn't it? Two equal and opposite forces, battling it out...and I'd been motionless, pleasantly lost in the distraction of it all.
I even slept well last night (although I won't tell you how late I was up, trying to fall asleep. A detail like that would detract from my point.)
Today, I've done nothing but weep and nap and tell nobody in particular that this is not fair, not fair, not fair.
I've whispered it aloud, this truth I've treasured in my heart for weeks, thinking that hearing it might help me believe:
"...and hope does not disappoint..."
Time always moves forward. Storms may rage...but time always moves forward. On Sunday, I'll help my brother with his homework. On Sunday, I'll stand in the same room as my mother. Ideally, I'll have the courage to be real with her over the next few weeks. As a wise friend told me recently, it's important to be real.
And in twenty-four days, I'll move back to campus - to dear friends who are so special because they love me, even in the mess.
I'm shaking.
I am racked by how much this hurts.
This is an ugly moment. But it's important to be real, so here goes: it hurts. All I want is someone to just hold me and say, "I know."
But in a little while, I'll be a little less alone. Right?
I hadn't cried for days.
For days, I'd been preoccupied with "lasts": my last weekend with dear friends, my last time at church, my last hug with this person or that person. They're bittersweet, these "lasts". Each one pulls me away from the ones I'll miss, yet nudges me toward those whom I've been missing all this time. And it's simple physics, isn't it? Two equal and opposite forces, battling it out...and I'd been motionless, pleasantly lost in the distraction of it all.
I even slept well last night (although I won't tell you how late I was up, trying to fall asleep. A detail like that would detract from my point.)
Today, I've done nothing but weep and nap and tell nobody in particular that this is not fair, not fair, not fair.
I've whispered it aloud, this truth I've treasured in my heart for weeks, thinking that hearing it might help me believe:
"...and hope does not disappoint..."
Time always moves forward. Storms may rage...but time always moves forward. On Sunday, I'll help my brother with his homework. On Sunday, I'll stand in the same room as my mother. Ideally, I'll have the courage to be real with her over the next few weeks. As a wise friend told me recently, it's important to be real.
And in twenty-four days, I'll move back to campus - to dear friends who are so special because they love me, even in the mess.
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| They also write me letters. Lots of letters. See? |
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| Sometimes they are silly, and tease me for being a homebody. |
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| One particular friend likes to show his affection through Photoshop. |
I am racked by how much this hurts.
This is an ugly moment. But it's important to be real, so here goes: it hurts. All I want is someone to just hold me and say, "I know."
But in a little while, I'll be a little less alone. Right?
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