In 28 days I will leave a place that has been my home for 3 years. I will throw out old papers, downsize my wardrobe, say farewell to friends, and pack up what remains of the life I have lovingly built here.
It is not a new drill. Some may even call me an expert. Some might even venture to call me indifferent.
Yet, there is never indifference. The distance that will grow between those that have left imprints on your heart is always heavy. It weighs on your soul like a lead lining, a burden given to those free spirits who so desperately wish to fly, to never come down from the sprawling heavens.
It is a price we pay.
Yet, the distance is also our anchor to the earth. It is what brings us back from complete oblivion. We are enslaved and saved by it.
Some days you feel its pull more than others. In those days even your heart feels the crippling weight, as if it could grind down into your very bones. The missed birthdays, the weddings, the reunions, the youth of your nieces and nephews, they all pass by without your presence, and people assume indifference.
The time away lengthens, and you find so does the distance. These two have an exponential effect. There is a great fear that your anchor will be lost. That perhaps one day, no one will bother to call you back from the distance.
We sacrifice these parts of ourselves for the other parts that live within us. The parts that if left unfed, would surely cause our souls to wither and starve and eventually be filled with hollow emptiness.
Our absence, our distance, is not indifference, and we search for the understanding of those who anchor us to particular places and spaces of time. We can only hope as we move through the sky, searching for the next adventure, that they remember they are carried with us throughout any length of distance. They are the compasses that guide us to discover the new and return to the old.
Yet, we fear.
We yearn for and we loathe. No, distance is not indifference.