on leaving and being left

it's that time of year again, and by now you would think i'd be used to it:

l e a v i n g and b e i n g l e f t

this season of transition, change, uprooting even in slightly less drastic ways. you think i'd be used to: being on the move, never feeling quite at home, waiting for something else to change, never feeling stable or sure or comfortable. you think i'd be used to: people leaving. saying goodbye. wishing them well. and one last hug.

i won't miss this part - the part where people always leave and you learn you can't depend on someone because soon, they'll be gone, and you'll be gone, too. it always surprises me. this time sneaks up. when i find myself growing closer, but still keep an arms length between them because i know that soon, one of us will go. soon, someone will be left behind. soon, it won't be the same. and it's easier to use an arm, a pole, five subway stops to separate and keep space. your friends. them. but still, over home-cooked meals, board games, and sharing: you grow closer anyways. and the five stops become less of a journey and you find friends. make friends. become a friend. so it's in this time that i grow nostalgic because those people became my friends, and my friends are going. again. they'll go back and start something new. a new job, a new school, in a new place, with new people. and i'll be here. waiting for it to be my turn to leave and leave behind. to move on. get going. feel the transition again for myself.

i hate that feeling. being left behind. the weather is cold and life is a little less full. i fill it now: with the memories of those nights with them, sunshine, and warm cups of lake michigan coffee.