I am rediscovering that saying goodbye is so difficult because I can't just say goodbye. Telling people I love them and I may never see them again is hard enough, but I have to do it with bruised knees, a sore back, bashed fingers and a mountain of details all screaming to not be one of the ones I just end up not doing at the end. Each Sunday for the past couple of weeks, a dear friend has come up to tell me they are off and this is goodbye -- right now. I am spending last moments with someone together stuffing newspaper and a cup into a box. People I have grown with and helped grow want a few moments and I know it will happen with some and not with others. For some, there will just be goodbye.
In the mean time, dishes still wait to be washed, we get up, brush our teeth, bump into each other getting up, negotiate the daily fights, and collapse at the end of the day. The cat and the Guinea pig know something is up, but they just go on playing in the dirt or wood chips, eating and sleeping. For me, like them, each moment asserting itself as ordinary while my spirit readies itself for the mysterious leap.