letter to past and future and possibly present

Dear,

I'm curling up in bed, unsure of whether I will try sleeping outside tonight, knowing tomorrow morning I will regret not doing yoga now. But whatever, I'll just do some yoga in the morning. Along with everything else I'm putting off tonight. Like talking to what roommates I have left.

I'm tired.

However, I have a lot to say to you. I've been thinking this weekend, about how I had this really important goodbye. Actually, our goodbye was just yesterday but I'm having trouble remembering that because none of what's about to happen in the next two weeks seems real. Especially the part where I move 1,100 miles.

So I had this really important goodbye with a really good friend and I couldn't cry and I've been realizing it's because not only does it not seem real, I cannot see friendship goodbyes as anything more than a temporary or prolonged...no, a prolonged but temporary separation. And it's more than that, it's because if I don't see it as temporary, if I think about permanence and losses and the general negatives of change I will panic. The weight of no longer being able to bike ride up the canyon whenever I feel like it will crush me until I can't breathe. Realizing that I've only had a month of good hiking weather will break my knees and thinking about how I won't be spending a few days every week with my sister and nephew will be enough to make me chicken out.

I can't be a stunted chicken, guys.

Here is where I'm ever pleased for Ecclesiastes, The Byrds, and that afternoon years ago where–after falling into a bout of despondency after several productive, happy days–I realized I will always have periods of down-ness and the thing to do was to appreciate that, get everything I could spiritually, emotionally, and mentally out of being in a rut.

To everything there is a season, turn, turn, turn.

You can't exactly have your cake and eat it too. I mean, I'm learning I can't have all joy at once. At times it is the joy of finding a new recipe, or the baking of a cake, or eating that slice of really good cake. (Don't tell me you're not a cake person, stop eating boxed cake, come over and I'll change your mind.) Sometimes All those things happen in really quick succession, but never all at once, all on top of each other. Everything has its time.

I will continue to write you letters, well, personal letters if you so choose to give me your address. If you call, I'll talk to you but I won't promise to call you. There's email, there's gchat, there's thinking of you.

And there's me in two weeks making the most of the changes in my life.

Take heart! (Oh, take heart, self.)

Forever,