With a little inspiration from pleasedraweveryday, it has come to my attention that...well, I should write more. Again.
And blessedly, with a good 3 - 4 year hiatus from the blogosphere (or in my case, writing about everything under the sun in 1000+ words when really it only needed 5...), I think my brain feels cleansed enough to have another go at pontificating on the things that sing with pleasurable vibrato. Something beyond words.
I was saving this blog to write about all the lessons I'm currently learning about the tiny humans, but I realized that there will always be time to learn about tiny humans. After all, I plan to devote my career to it utilizing the magical wonders of art.
What's come to mind lately is the way people communicate goodbyes. How we celebrate a friend or family member's departure into our collective unknown but will soon be their collaborative planet of shifting continents and crafting mountains of history and beautiful natural sculptures of re-birth we could never fathom when we were young.
"Goodbyes," "see you later's," they're all said in different ways within the construct of those words. And maybe I live in a fantastical universe inside my head that says everything should have its own crescendo when you bid farewell to someone. Or something. Maybe there is just as much beauty to be found in the subtleties as much as there is to be found on grandiose scales of knightly gallivanting into sunsets championing for better tomorrows.
Almost all the goodbyes I've experienced have been subtle. Quiet. Maybe I'm just craving loudness. An exeunt made for the books. Something to say, "this is it." And all I want to do is throw huge shindigs. We'll dance and laugh, drink with arms around shoulders and faces so close you can feel the hot breath pushing past your cheek while we hold each other close for the last time. I want to be able to say, "This friendship was amazing. I'm really sad to see you go, but I know that our life paths are going in opposite directions and it would be impossible to find one another again if we tried. But at some point, hopefully I'll see you soon." I want to wish them a fair journey. Blow a kiss to the sea as a silent prayer for sleepy sailing.
Maybe I want to make the memories as poignant as I believe they should be because the fallibility of my personal memory is sketchy at best. It feels like I'm holding on to pieces of thread that at one point connected to something important. Or at least I think it was important. And I'm so scared of losing things that I want to document and memorize everything. Somehow. Anything. Any tool that's available to help me remember you because at some point I am terrified I could forget you. And no one should ever be forgotten.
But if it's important enough you'll remember...right?
I like big goodbyes.
I know that dancing with all goodbyes as they come and go creates a worthier palate for my fingers to paint with; a layered convolution of yarn, string, legos, paint tubes, photographs, words, zeros and ones. Don't think I'm retreating to a binary, but maybe get a glimpse of how I like to piece things together, yea? I want to remember...everything.
And maybe with all the art I could potentially create out of this it will be my way of throwing you a party. I'll hold you close then let you go, sending you off with your paper lanterns twisting and dancing in the wind while the carriage bounces and leaps away, as though the sunrise could catch you at any moment and you just need to get a little farther down the road.
Goodbyes are a funny thing. A funny thing indeed.
