I was about to say I’m amateur at saying goodbyes but I’m not.  I’m a veteran thanks to sixteen moves in my life.  And who is really good at saying bye anyway?  I could write about how unfair life is or why angelic people often go through hell while the lukewarm spirits sit and complain of self-induced loneliness and homework.  But I’ll just leave it at that and let my fingers tell you that there is a deep, resonating stillness that comes in the best of times and in the worst of times. (Copyright Charles Dickens)

And so tonight is spent frenetically chopping onions that give me an excuse to wet my eyes a bit and breathing in the embracing aromas of food Emeril envisioned.  I feel as though I could be an American in Paris (Copyright Gene Kelly), sitting in a hidden Parisian cafe, writing poetry and musing on the bittersweet loneliness life brings to us; I feel strangely grateful at the chance to be a different shade of passionate.

I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, for the incredibly self-indulgent post.  I will spend my time searching the caverns of my wit for some amusing anecdote for the next time.



About Kendal

Just a girl.
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1 Response to Goodbyes

  1. Sangre Jaguar says:

    I think that beauty of impermanence should be acknowledged with goodbyes. The bittersweetness of every new goodbye and the memory of the last.

    Cheers to the present, good or bad, and its impermanence because nothing lasts forever. & that is mostly a good thing. It’s a beautifully imperfectly perfect aspect of life and living.

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