The Goodbyes of a Long-Distance Relationship
Practice makes perfect?
How does one say goodbye satisfactorily? Is there a secret to getting it right? Is it one more hold? One more kiss? One more gaze: eyes locked, desperate to extract a solitary, sacred, eternal second out of the unfeeling, churning momentum of time, determined to imprint it onto our souls; willing our entire existence–crowned by this final moment– to become encapsulated in a tangible thing, weighty and real and transportive? Isn't this the alchemy that has consumed humans from time immemorial– more than gold-making, more than living forever: to keep a moment alive forever, untouched and untarnished? Isn't this why we wear lockets, treasure locks of hair, and write poetry? And then the moment vanishes. Our gaze breaks, tears form at the site. Time has gone, and you with it. I am not satisfied with our goodbye… I guess we’ll try again next time.
As a veteran of the long distance relationship (we did the better part of 2 years seeing each other irl only 2 or 3 times) I feel this in my bones. The secret to a long distance goodbye is to keep hope alive. Plan your next date however far ahead.
Frankly, I’d like to practice goodbyes less. How about we practice ‘Couples Poetry’ instead?