The neighbs left town today. Just a couple of minutes ago, actually. I prolonged his goodbye time, puttering and stalling, then kicked him out real fast so he wouldn't see me cry.
He was doing that thing where he didn't really want to say goodbye to anyone, where he hasn't really fully understood that he's leaving somewhat more permanently than on previous occasions and doesn't get what everyone else's fuss is about. Meanwhile everyone else is saying all those things-you-say-when-your-friend-is-leaving and he's been patient, very patient while people try to reconcile themselves to the notion he won't be around when we wake up tomorrow. Me particularly.
This is odd for me, having spent most of my time on the other end of this particular telescope: I've never been the one who stayed back before, and rest assured, I will never trivialize what the left-behind person goes through ever again. Because while he's seeing a changing horizon out the window of his car, tunes cranked up, family awaiting him all smiles and embraces, the anticipation of a new task ahead; once his car rumbles off there's nothing here to assuage the sensation of everything having changed for me without producing anything new or promising other than what just walked out the door.
He's not going so very far away, just a couple hours really, and he's going to finish something he started a long time ago and become a teacher, and something tells me he's going to be exceptionally good at it. I can't wait to hear about his first semester in the classroom and he may not know it, but the newness of it all for him has restored to me some of my idealism and enthusiasm in regard to teaching.
Not just about teaching. I think being around him has restored my enthusiasm and idealism in general, made me want things in my life and think maybe I have a shot at really getting them. I so wanted to tell him that before he left but all I got out was thanks. For what? he said. Just thanks, that's all, and that's as close as I came.
In some ways it's better he won't be here because I won't have the option of depending on him to feel happy and good, something that happens effortlessly when he's here but that we both know I need to learn to do on my own. Now he's gone maybe at last I'll get some serious studying done, clean my apartment, pull myself together in another couple of respects. Nonetheless I already feel as though this is some kind of bad joke and we're not even to the punchline yet; my furnace is broken and it gets dark early these days and I don't know if my little dog is enough to keep me feeling warm and safe.
Sometimes I think I'd rather be one of those people who don't ever seem to feel anything deeply, who just skim over the surface of their own emotions and consequently don't play paddleball with their hearts this way. Of course anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a liar.
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