I am thirteen and leaving after one year making friends and loving life in the United States. My heart is breaking. All my friends are at the airport in Johnson City, Tennessee and I cry and hug and cry and hug and I don’t think my heart will make it. Every time I wipe my eyes there is black Madeline mascara smudged over the sides of my hands. My eyes are black, like a raccoon. But I can’t help it. I don’t care.
I make a conscious decision: I will never make friends again. I don’t want to hurt this way to say.
Life continues to bring too many good byes.
I am 16 and my first love has graduated and is leaving Zambia to attend college in OK. Once again my eyes are black and the tears won’t stop. I can’t do this. I go home and cry myself to sleep for many nights to come.
This time is for real: I won’t let anyone this close again. Good-byes are too hard.
My parents leave me in college and return to Africa. I feel the pain again. It is the old days where you walk your loved one to the gate and watch the plane take off. Each hundred feet away is like blood dripping from an open wound in my heart.
Now? It doesn’t hurt like it used too. Good byes aren’t as hard. I taught myself not to feel so hard, not to let anyone get that deep in my heart.
When a wound heals it forms a scar that is tougher than the original tissue.
I’ve moved dozens of times since then. It is easier now.
Five Minutes on the word Good-bye. No editing. We link with Lisa Jo at The Gypsy Mama. Why not write for five minutes flat on the word Good-bye and join us???