Leave the Pieces

I don't like saying goodbye. That's a rather trite statement, as I'm not sure there's anyone that does. Some times hurt more than others, but it always aches a little, regardless of how well or little I know the people from whom I'm separating. One would think I'd gotten used to it by now. I've hopped on a plane without so much as a by-your-leave more times than I can count and I've chosen the most transient city in the United States as my semi-permanent residence. People come and go so often here that it's barely conceivable that I might know someone for more than a year or two.

I just said goodbye, probably forever, to someone I knew on the most surface of levels. Yet he's sweet and kind and doesn't give himself enough credit. And I wish I had more time to speak confidence into him. Later this month, I lose my dance partner. He isn't just my partner, he's danced with eleventy different ladies in just about as many different countries, but for a few months, he led me.  He doesn't know these things, but he helped me face my fear and break-in this stiff, dusty skin called dance that's lived in me before and has been begging to breathe again. If it weren't for him, I'd probably still be existing in my half-life, a spell he broke with his effortlessness of being. He's leaving behind a hole that, here, at the start of it, feels impossible to fill. Saying good-bye is even harder with the ones that are irreplaceable.

Shortly after the holidays, I lose another. Our friendship lies somewhere between the other two, and although I don't see him often these days, I'm really going to miss his face. Whenever I see it now, I'm sad and helpless to change where he's going. These people are taking pieces of me away. The pieces will eventually return in some shape or another, but they'll never look quite the same. It's that fact that hurts my heart, and makes these holidays more melancholy than most. When I leave for Christmas, these people leave for their new lives, and my world will look different when I return. I usually don't mind changes of scenery. But I always hate losing things of beauty.