Musings on Goodbye
Originally published 2005
Some people find themselves somewhere and just stay put, and then there are those among us who seem destined to just continually dance around this big blue marble on which we live. I fall into the latter category. Having called four different states home in the last 10 years it was only a matter of time before Hilton Head found its way into my rearview mirror.
And it seems to me that it’s always the packing that makes me antsy. Sitting and staring at empty walls and stacked boxes. Listening uneasily to the ominous echo that bounces around a newly empty space, and wondering how many more moves I’ll make before I find a place to truly call “home.” And because I’m the kind of person who reads the last page of a book first, I’ve often wished for a crystal ball so as to know the outcome of my life without having to impatiently watch it unfold before me. To possibly avoid the inevitable periods of pain and just look forward to the happiness. But I suppose that the joy of life should be in not knowing what waits around the next corner.
And so instead of being able to see the future with a crystal ball, I can only look to the past for answers or to realize the mistakes I’d just as soon not repeat. And I find myself thinking back on the places I’ve lived as though they were snow globes. Forever preserved in my mind, frozen in time, with all the memories perfectly intact. But I can’t help wondering why I find myself in the places I do; if there’s some greater purpose. It’s natural, I suppose, to always wonder why we are where we are. What brought us here? What’s the point? And looking forward when embarking on a new journey, or looking back at one chapter’s conclusion those questions are almost impossible to answer.
Maybe it was to make somebody laugh.
Maybe it was to dry somebody’s tears.
Maybe it was to tell somebody a story.
Maybe it was to comfort somebody.
Maybe it was to be somebody’s friend.
Maybe it was to listen to somebody.
Maybe it was to dance with somebody.
Maybe it was to touch somebody’s soul.
Maybe it was to love somebody.
Or maybe I was that somebody to another.
I don’t think I’ll ever know. We know the impact others have on our lives, but rarely the impact we have on the lives of others. And maybe it’s better that way. But no matter how brief the encounter, I am who I am today because of all the people with whom I’ve crossed paths, for better or for worse. That’s what shapes us—the good and the bad.
And now it’s time for me to turn another blind corner, walk down another unfamiliar block that soon enough will feel like home. Until the next time…
It’s been quite a ride, Hilton Head, but now I must say goodbye, because, as did Mr. Frost, I have miles to go before I sleep. Just remember, whether wanderer or not, that life is about the journey, not the destination. It ends the same for everyone; what separates us is what we do before we get there. If all you’re doing is moving toward a pine box that’s six feet under, you’ve missed the point altogether. But it’s not too late—as of today, tomorrow is still unwritten.
