Moving Is Filled With Goodbyes
/Goodbye Takes Many Forms
Moving is a time of saying hello to unknown, future adventures.
It's also replete with goodbyes.
Saying Goodbye
Moving means saying farewell to grand things: jobs, co-workers, a house that was a home, friends and family.
There are also goodbyes to little things, those sparkles that brighten one's day. Like loving gestures whispered on the wind and permanently seared upon my heart. Now, without them, a pale cloud of thin sadness drifts over me.
It's the goodbye to a sumptuous farmers market filled with year-round delectable treats. Or the wistful farewell to a food co-op with a bulk section that inspired envy.
Goodbye To The Little Things
It's little conveniences that are figured out over the space of several years. To avoid frustrating freeway backups, I discovered bucolic back roads. I whisked through wide fields dotted with cows and horses, heads bent to the tufts of grass before them.
The car dealership that provided good service (how rare is that?) and courtesy car washes. Or, the best place to buy gas.
The hair stylist. I finally found a good hairdresser after enduring a series of terrible hair cuts. She listened to what I wanted. She knew her trade. My heart sinks to think of the hairdresser-search beginning again.
Goodbye To The Earth
I said goodbye to each plant and tree that I had planted in the front and back yards. I watched them grow and change through five years of seasons.
The maple tree in my front yard grew stronger and straighter than all my neighbors' trees planted at the same time. Maybe the water helped, maybe it was the love.
That tree had a story. Soon after I moved in, one of the stakes holding the tree broke. The furniture maker who came to adjust a piece of furniture noted its state of disrepair. Without being asked, our goodbyes had already been said and we hadn't mentioned it, he drove back to my place with another one to replace it.
I happened to look out the window to see him at work. Each strike of his mallet on the stake was made with deliberate, careful attention. I didn't walk outside, not wanting to disturb this selfless act of caring. He never knocked on my door, never asked for recompense.
My heart still smiles when I think of it. His stake held tight over time against the fierce, delta winds. My maple tree reached to the sky with that firm support, straight and tall.
I was able to thank him in person for his thoughtfulness, five years later when I had another piece of furniture to repair. He was sweetly proud of his handiwork and we stood together, admiring "our" straight tree.
I hope the new homeowners appreciate its regal beauty.
Little things, left behind as my car drove out of town.
Goodbye. Hello. The continuum of our lives.
