Mood: hug me
Here's to the night we felt alive.
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry.
Here's to goodbye tomorrow's going to come too soon.
- - -
It's strange feeling tears prickling the backs of your eyes as you stare at all the away icons on your AIM buddy list. It makes the tears actually well up and fall when you read the things - seeing the words "packing," "should have done this a while ago," and "leaving" in pretty much all of them over and over again every day for the last two weeks. And then the heart clenches and the stomach curls uncomfortably when you realize that your day's coming. It's waiting there for you, at the end of the week.
It's strange trying to grasp the fact that these last three days will be the last three days that this house on this street will be your home. Home will be the various college dorms you're assigned to over the next four years and after that, it'll be the apartment or condo that you'll have bought for myself. Mom's home-cooked meals are a thing of the past and in the future, they will be gifts rather than one of those constants in one's life as a child. And it's because that chapter of your life is at an end, in three days.
It's strange seeing the familiar faces you've always taken for granted and realizing that one day, they won't be familiar anymore. You're going to forget about them and after a while, you'll forget that there was ever something there to remember. The people at school that you've grown up with, that have passed the same halls you have in the years of your life, will no longer walk the same paths that you do. Those kids from your elementary school that you've never really spoken to are leaving, just as you are, and you may have lost them forever.
But those friends you've made - the really close ones that you'd laugh at everything with, that you'd gone through everything with...well those, those you just try to hold onto as best you can. Because those are the ones that will keep the long lost faces in your memory. They'll remind you that there's something to remember at all. And you'll remind them of the faces they thought they'd forgotten as well.
It's strange looking at the brother that had always been such a nuisance throughout your life. And it's strange realizing that he's always really been a part of you - almost like your second half, because you have never been without him. Except the short years before he was born. You remember being excited that there would be a life-long playmate in your future when the new baby came. You were excited that this would be one friend that would never have to leave you to go home, because home would be with you - always. But now you're leaving, and he's not coming with you.
It's strange thinking of movies where the kids visit their parents after years of separation. These kids have their own lives now, their own families - separate. You don't want your life to ever be like that. Grandma lives with your aunt and uncle, and there are dinners every week to get the family back together again, to keep everyone close. You vow to make Mom and Dad live with you and whatever additions you add to the family you have now when they're older. Because anyone else is just that - they're an addition. Your mom, your dad, your brother - they're yours, your family. And they always will be. They were and are your family first, before they become the parents you visit after years of separation.
But you know there will never be years of separation. The dinners will always come at the end of the week. And you will always be there. And the separation will only ever be 7 days at most.
It's strange though. In three days, the end of the week will be on you, and you'll be leaving. You're not going to be able to make the dinner waiting there with your departure. But there are dinners every week - at the end of the week, waiting for you.
And the dinners will be there when you come back.