It’s the beginning of the end. The subtle feeling slipped into my heart awhile ago, but has moved to the forefront of almost every conversation. The last Art’s Fest walk, the last graduation
week. The moments of, I can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s the
beginning of saying goodbye to the town I love, of walking around with a little
dagger in my heart.
It shows up in the conversations like the one I had the other day. What is your season
like? I asked one of our dance team girls. And she explained that they practice
all year for one competition, one performance. When is the competition? I asked.
In January, she replied. And then the dagger hit, that I won't be behind the counter in January to ask how the competition went.
The dagger strikes when I say, I’m moving out of town, and my friend replies, it’s
going to be different around town without you here. Wow, I can hardly even
remember you not being around.
In
the end, I’ve fallen in love with this town. The quiet summers. The semester chaos. The green spaces. The bike lanes. And oh, so. many. people. I love how the world
meets in this place and how now, rather than seeing a map, I see faces. I love
walking down the street, through the grocery store, sitting down with food or coffee and everywhere seeing the people I have come to know and love.
The dagger will strike deep, and my heart will bleed, when I climb into my car and
drive away. But it’s a testament. A testament that it’s worth loving hard,
investing your whole life even when you know the end is coming. It’s worth
planting trees, even if you never eat the fruit.