frontiers


"what do we leave behind when we cross each frontier? each moment seems split in two;
melancholy for what was left behind and the excitement of entering a new land."
(CHE GUEVERRA, MOTORCYCLE DIARIES)

the second weekend in august was manufactured to be the last days of a chapter of my life. i prefer to call it coldplay weekend. a final pilgrimage to alpine valley, arguably the finest outdoor concert venue, to see the, arguably, finest band. the end of college, the beginning of student teaching in india, peace corps in ghana, teaching english in japan, volunteering in southern colorado and working at the mayo clinic. a goodbye, well, so long or something not so permanent, to much of my college family. since then i’ve allowed phone calls, emails, letters, et. al. to replace coffee chats and lunch dates. over time and place, old friends continue to encapsulate my emotions in words better than i can. the belly laughs that end in tears or gasps for air aren’t any different across continents. at times, these are the moments that sustain me. somehow, parts of me have immigrated with my friends.

coming to colorado to visit beth was the first time i’ve been in one of my sister-friends’ worlds. though i feel completely connected to her, seeing a world that i am not a part of jarred me to tears. meeting her new friends and hearing new stories, seeing her new places… somehow, i had become somewhat of a foreigner at home (beth and my relationship being the home to which i refer). yeah, call it selfishness or jealousy. but it was a lot more complex than that. one of the people i love most in the world has a rich life completely foreign to me. someone who has defined college, living abroad, the concept of home in general, has another life. of course this is obvious. we all move away when we move on, finding new loved ones to color our days, sharing new experiences, establishing new inside jokes, listening to new music. and no matter how hard we try, we are going to miss out on the beautiful everyday idiosyncrasies that we so often taken for granted of daily life. and, no matter how wonderful the present is, to me, that still fucking sucks.

maybe i am too attached and nostalgic for the past. too tied to loved ones that are faraway. but isn’t that what life is? loving to an extreme? i knew that this would be the hardest part of leaving college (though i graduated almost a year ago). trying to let go and simultaneously hold on to the love. i realized, crying to beth, in a moment that solidified that little had changed in our actual relationship, that maybe i never let go in the first place. and, despite my love for india, woodstock, etc., i don’t know how to. how do we have to mourn the past to move on? how do we hold all the things we carry that define us while being present? laura seems to be on the same page in this matter. this is from her blog (so is the che gueverra quote)…

“i asked my mom, so is this what it means to be an adult? that people spread out, grow physically (if not emotionally) distant, that you’re never fully caught up with the stories of home, that you are appalled at the growth of young children, that the familiar feels cozy and welcoming, but also strange? can i be excited about change, look forward to new things, but miss the old, the way things were, too? is that allowed in adulthood?” (LAURA)



driving to the airport, i would have preferred time to stop as we grew closer. denver international airport 10 miles… 7 miles (at least it’s more than half… 1 mile… listening to x & y, “fix you” almost incited tears (big surprise, at this point). “tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace…” though i know we don’t lose people when we leave each others’ sight, we do depart to separate worlds, leaving a bit of ourselves behind and initiating the cross-world communication that so often overlooks the beauty of the everyday. this morning beth and i laid in bed and talked about the ease of failing to appreciate love that seems constant. taking relationships for granted because they seem unchangeable, unending. this, of course, makes me think of something in extremely loud and incredibly close.

“it was late and we were tired. we assumed there would be other nights. anna’s breathing started to slow, but i still wanted to talk. she rolled on her side. i said, i want to tell you something. she said, you can tell me tomorrow. i had never told her how much i loved her. she was my sister. we slept in the same bed. there was never a right time to say it. it was always unnecessary… i thought about waking her. but it was unnecessary. there would be other nights. and how can you say i love you to someone you love? i rolled onto my side and fell asleep next to her. here is the point of everything i have been trying to tell you, oskar. it’s always necessary” (FOER, E.L.A.I.C., 314).

distance can make the heart grow fonder and all that. and sometimes it takes a few thousand miles to learn not to take things, even the most important ones, for granted. but, either way, it's hard when the things you love most are so distant.