Does anybody else out there hate good-byes? Maybe it's because I moved fairly often as a child that I've developed an aversion to the whole awkward ritual--the half-kept promises of writing, the unfilled invitations to come and visit, the formulaic last phrases. While well-intended, these good-byes are often laced with over-promises that can seem insincere--all of which bothers me because it runs so contrary to how much I truly will miss these people.
As much as I'd like to pretend that we will be back here and see friends and acquaintances again, the truth is that life moves fast and changes constantly. The only thing certain is its unpredictability. Even if we do make it back to Lyon, the lives of those we've come to know and love will have changed. I guess the secret is accepting that this change is okay.
This week has been filled with so many lasts...
the last time hanging up the laundry to dry
the last time firing up the oven with a lighter
the last time playing piano for the Villeurbanne paroisse
the last time watching Brooklyn and her Daddy walk to school together from out my front window
As hard as all of these lasts may be, it helps to remember that they will soon be followed by many firsts.