What I Leave Behind . . .

All day today, I've been looking for words that I'm not sure I have. The end of one chapter has finally come to pass and I simultaneously started a new one. Literally, within hours of each other, I completed the requirements needed for my bachelor's degree and then was discussing my first legal brief with my new peers via conference. I've tried to put aside the nagging feeling that I'm leaving part of myself behind as I start this new journey. Part of myself I didn't even find until I walked into a classroom that felt like home and I proceeded to find other like-minded people. I'm definitely leaving part of my heart behind. 

This past weekend I was with a very dear friend. The other half of the 'Gruesome Twosome'. We were shopping, and out of nowhere I asked her if she would consider going to Texas State after all. Originally, well, for a moment in time this past spring, that was our plan. To go to grad school together. To terrorize another English department. To eventually teach in the same department, just because no-one would be able to handle the both of us. It was a beautiful plan while it lasted. She assured me it was tempting, but then asked my reason behind the question. I'm supposed to be headed off to law school in a few weeks. Not to mention, I didn't finish my application process with Texas State because I knew that wasn't what I was supposed to do. Still, this week, in the midst of my cold feet, I was willing to stay.

I've had a hard time with the realization that somewhere along the way, this small town that I claimed to loathe became home. Leaving it means leaving behind everything and everyone that has become dear to me. Yes, I can come and visit. No, I'm not going to the other side of the universe, but my day-in, day-out life will not involve these people. There won't be any more gossiping or discussing all the parts of life that seem so important down at the amphitheater.Walking through Presser Hall late at night in hopes of finding the ghost, and receiving crazy text messages while doing so, will no longer seem like an honorable pastime. Midnight tours of Judge Baylor's grave and the craziest stories we can invent will be forever lost, as we move on to more grown-up ambitions. Art gallery viewings with a professor-turned-five-year-old, as they insist on touching everything just to feel the texture. Elvis, The Alien and The Lamb are still my favorite. Being so loud with Sandra and the party of people I assembled in her office, that Dr. Brown comes and yells at us to shut-up. Chasing a professor down the hallway because he stole my wallet and having him gently push me into a wall in order to evade me; yeah, you can't make that stuff up. Walks at the pond. Crack from the sub. "Breathe Kitty, Kitty, Breathe" with the girls. Oh, and I better not forget that Jesus is a glowworm or Lola's version of "Sunrise, Sunset". Sunday morning coffee talks at Bodega Bean. Salgado's on Friday with Jen and Sadie, and sometimes Rachel. I would stay for each and every one of these people if I thought I could get away with it. 

My cold feet have finally warmed up. Working on my brief, reading cases and trying to find the most important parts of them; I realized I've been preparing for this for the last three years. I would be doing a disservice to the people who have bent over backwards to help me, to edit my papers, to talk to me, counsel me and love me despite my craziness if I chose to stay simply because I didn't want to leave them. I've thought about an email correspondence that happened about this time last summer. My soul mate was accepted to graduate school; she was leaving me for Alabama. I reached out to this person asking how to let go. Jokingly they brought up a story we had read, a quote they knew I'd understand. I don't remember what it is exactly, but it is something to the effect: If I can let you go or say goodbye, then I love you the most, because that's what's best. Fast forward a year and I'm having to say goodbye to the people I love the most, but I know it's for the best. Still, I want to reach out to that person and say, it doesn't matter how much time goes by . . . I haven't gotten any better at letting go. So I leave part of my heart behind, hoping I'll come back and claim it when I'm done and in a position to stay.

Love,
The Rambling Gypsy