Saying goodbye.
I’ve come and gone so much, I should be a professional at
saying goodbye. At this point, it should be inherent. In reality, though, I’m
an awfully tragic goodbyer. Previously, when I moved from one place to another,
I’ve felt so excited about the upcoming adventure and so ready to be done with
the current endeavor that my goobyes have been contrite, too simple, and
certainly the receivers warranted much more. When I’ve been sad to leave (like
when I moved from SD to NJ), the ball swelling in the back of my throat
simultaneously singled my quick hug and wordless departure. In these moments,
I’ve wanted to word vomit the importance of the people I’m departing, but
despite my ability to sit behind a computer screen and write, I’m never feel
adequate in the relaying of such poignant messages.
As my school year winds down, I’m faced with the reality of
saying goodbye to this community, my kids, the experiences that have created my
home for the past two years. Some moments, bagged eyes and gray hairs tell me
it is time. My perpetual state of exhaustion yearns for an awakening induced by
restful nights, innately resulting from time away from South Texas and
teaching. I feel as if my time here is reaching its crescendoing finale, but I
also feel like my kids, Roma, teaching deserve a far greater goodbye than I’ve
been able to stomach before.
I’ve only just started to reflect on my entire experience in
the RGV, but in the week and one day I have left as a teacher, I’m seeking to
figure out a warranted goodbye, the perfect words to leave behind, the perfect words
to propel me forward.
Not sure as to the reason why, I am adamant in the belief
that part of loving must be leaving, but as I depart from South Texas, I want
to do so with the grace it has so graciously infiltrated my soul with.
Saying goodbye, with love, in love, because I love.
My heart goes out to you, Natalie.
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