When Time Is Running Out
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
It's my last year of university.
The word last seems to haunt me this semester, and it's only going to get worse with each passing month. Last Thanksgiving, last Frozeniversarry (a fun tradition that we invented a few years ago: think blue cocktails and a Frozen themed drinking game), last time playing touch rugby with one of my closest friends.
Soon it will be time to say goodbye to him, a phenomenon I am all too familiar with as I attend the world's most transient school, and yet not one I'm looking forward to. Will it be the last time I see him?
When time is running out, it can be hard to enjoy what you have. I remember, years ago, lying in the arms of the one I loved and praying for more time before I would have to fly half way across the world. The fear of the future that is minus what you have now creeps into the remaining minutes, marring them with melancholy. I'm still trying to figure out how to embrace the present without the past or future worming their way in, and this is just another way in which the different aspects of time intertwine.
As May draws closer, how can I make the most of what I have, knowing that I will be forced to leave a place that has become home, for good? When you're just starting out, it seems as if it will last forever and yet the end is approaching with increasing speed. It occurs to me as I write this how much this represents a larger thought about life, a poignant point at the moment. Time is such a precious entity, yet no amount of wishing stops it's relentless march.
I suppose I simply must attempt to accept the fact that all good things come to an end, and embrace the future that lies before me. Five years ago it would have been inconceivable to me that I would find myself here. Memories have been built out of four years worth of experience, both good and bad, and I am blessed for all that I have been through and the ways that this has shaped my character. The next five years are equally inconceivable to me, with such uncertainty about what lies ahead. The most that I can hope for is to enjoy each precious second of this current adventure before I am forced into the next step.
So yes, it will be time to say goodbye. For the moment it is goodbye to specific friends who depart for other continents, next year it will be goodbye to many more and this place for good. Goodbyes are so very hard to say, moments are hard to let go of. Perhaps I should be thankful for such difficulty, for it shows what a wonderful life I have carved out for myself here. I now watch friends across the world live the next stage of their adventures and yet we still take the time to catch up, filling each other in on the goings on. This Christmas I will be seeing a friend from Abu Dhabi for the first time in two years, and we will be catching up in London. Even the Costa-Rican ex-boyfriend now lives there (although his trip to Mexico means that we can't catch up). Geography can be a cruel divider of friends, but distance doesn't mean never seeing each other, and it certainly doesn't have to end the role that two people play in each other's lives.
So where does that leave me? Well one thing's for sure: it's time to make the most of what I have left.