Yesterday, as the flight attendant was passing drinks over my head, I began to reminisce about times I've had drinks spilled on me while riding on airplanes...
Orange juice on my sleeve...
Apple juice in my lap...
The apple juice incident was memorable...not because of the spill, but because of the person who was talking to me when it happened.
This person was telling me about his life, how he had moved so many times it no longer bothered him to have to let friendships go (he actually used a more crass expression for it, but I'll leave that part up to your imagination). I wondered at his attitude, whether what he said was for real. I, too, had moved a lot, but I knew, in my case, it was just bravado. Even when I acted "tough" or nonchalant about it, I knew, deep down, there was pain in uprooting and pain in letting go.
I've learned how to do it, but that doesn't make it easy. It's even hard to see a friendship change. To go from daily contact to a long-distance relationship. Or any of the other myriad changes that come up between people as we go through our lives.
I know it can be tempting to harden my heart and bluff my way right through it, but I don't think that's the way that's always best...
I think my cousin said it best at our last family gathering: "We'll all be together someday..." Those who have died, those who still live...those who are simply living far away.
Because we all live with uncertainty and relationships that are constantly changing.
I think there is a way to care and continue letting go. A way to keep the heart open while life is slipping through our hands...
A way to love and ask for more, not letting the risks keep us from choosing to try again...
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