“i want some sugar in my bowl…” (what’s that even mean?)

by epi

#3: Goodbyes

From day one of 2010 I knew three things with an almost absolute certainty (1) that time, filled with delights or horrors, flies (2) that Tulsa fumbled it’s way into my heart, nudging & cutting and slipping into a place I’d marked off for a place I’d one day call “home” and (3) halfway through its marching months, I’d be leaving. I hated that. Six months seems so long, but no time is ever long enough. There’s never enough time. There’s no pause button. No rewind. No “please please please, take your time, my heart can’t survive another round of goodbyes.” One more reason, surely, to hate this year. I’m always saying goodbye.

And even on that day, I could tell you a million things I’d learned during my short time in T-town. I could outline how I’d use the sometimes painful, sometimes beautiful, lessons in the future, how it’ll make me a better person. I could point out that goodbye is almost always met with hello. That I’d be able to get to know my family better in the STL. It wasn’t enough. I still counted the year as bad.

I guess what I refused to see was that, I’m home. For right now, for this moment, and hopefully the next, I’m home. And maybe STL will take Tulsa’s place, and maybe it won’t, and maybe I’ll be back and maybe I won’t, but none of that needs to matter right now. (Look, I’ve spent my life worrying about tomorrow, letting planning my life tomorrow get in the way of living today. I won’t make that mistake here. Not again. I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Today, I’ll drink coffee and read my Bible and memorize the skyline and understand that THIS right here… this now, is all I have. Because time flies. And I only have this moment and maybe the next and the knowledge that somehow & without my permission I found myself with what I’ve always wanted. I don’t care that it’ll hurt to leave. I’m just glad it’ll hurt. A breaking heart means there’s a heart to break. The fear of losing something means that there’s something to lose.

And without leaving, I never would’ve realized that I wanted to stay. What do you say to that, 2010?