I’m ok at a few things. I can cook a decent curry, make babies smile in boring grocery lines, and put up with endless Seinfeld repeats. I’m also generally good at knowing when to stop drinking, spending too much, and sleeping in. But I am not good at goodbyes. Whether at funerals or airports, I just can’t do it. They hurt. And I don’t like hurting. It’s an end. And I don’t like endings. I want more. I want possibilities, chances, and just-maybe’s. I want the promise of a see-you-later. I really do. I want to see you, later. Oh I can fluff it up, focus on the good times. Celebrate and appreciate all I've learned and all I've become. Yes- cheers to the lessons, cheers to the journey, cheers to you and cheers to me. We can dress it up and dance with the goodbyes into the night- pretending you’ll call tomorrow to say what fun, let’s do it all again. But there is no tomorrow and there is no again. We all know goodbyes are just down-right badbyes. They have no rhythm, th...
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