C'est la vie: It comes and goes in waves

Despite the fact that I've travelled the world, moved five times before coming to college- including out of the country- and always maintained quite the restless spirit that yearns for adventure and avoids commitment, I have never been good at goodbyes.

I tell myself: "I've been here/done this a million times. What is one more goodbye? What is sending one more friend, lover, or family member on their way to another stage in life... to join another cast whose cut I didn't make and for which I may have never even auditioned?"

They will still be there, somewhere. They will have still touched my life and, quite frankly, it is most likely better for them to touch other lives by the time an inevitable goodbye surfaces.

Nevertheless, goodbyes are never easy.

I still get teary-eyed at that last hug, that last wave as a familiar car overflowing with luggage drives away, that last look at the back of his head as I search for any possible ounce of prompting to run and stop him, or that last desire to turn back the clock and spend more time with siblings who only seem to be getting taller, and most likely smarter, than me by the second.

But c'est la vie: it comes and goes in waves, and so do the lovely spirits float in and out of our lives, onto our shores then away from our sands, constantly eroding, molding, and shaping the ground upon which we walk, burying and unburying our feet with consistent ebbs and flows-- our beaches never to be the same.

My beach never to be the same.