Transitions in Time

The other day I heard a theme song that always makes me pause. It's the melody from the movie “UP.” Just hearing it makes me misty eyed. It's a story that starts out with two children who don’t belong anywhere but start a lifetime adventure with a simple hello. They fall in love and get married. They still don’t belong anywhere except with one another and that’s enough for them. They have a goodbye when they lose the baby they so longed for. Another goodbye when the adventure they wanted they couldn't afford because life was happening. Then the ultimate goodbye when he loses his wife. Then comes a hello in the shape of a pudgy little boy scout that shows a curmudgeon a new way of living. 

I’ve had many hellos and goodbyes. One goodbye happened when I left everyone I knew for over a decade to start this new life of mine. New town. New baby. Outsider always. I found my way and then said goodbye a year later.

Another town. Once again an outlier. Finding my way not gracefully. This time I got to spend four years. The saying is every duty station is terrible for the first 7 months and then you find your groove and eventually end up loving it and then it’s time to move again. This one was hard to leave. I had made best friends. Neighbors who became family. I’ll never forget being on a plane with a six month old and three year old flying over the house I would never live in again. That goodbye hurt for years. Time, for me defined by the life before I had my family and what is now. 

A little over two years ago I had a beautiful hello. This beautiful spirit walked into class. She got on her mat and her practice was exquisite. I knew immediately we would be friends. I just hadn’t figured out how without being a stalker. Then she got a job teaching here. Serendipitous. That was my chance. Show her the ropes. Welcome her with open arms because I just knew there was something special about her. She’s a girl’s girl and so am I. 

We can talk about books. Family. Hardships. We didn’t have to have anything in common, we were nerds in our own right. We share a deep love for yoga. She knows her Sanskrit and I respect that. Urdvha prasarita eka Padasana. Secret language. It's actually just standing split. And when we would do our Sun salutations together thinking we would do the entire practice we would end up getting lost in our friendship. Giggles. Laying around. Sometimes tears. Often tacos. That’s yoga too. Then Covid hit, our friendship had to take a pause. So unfair because we knew one day she would be leaving. It was never permanent. She’s onto new adventures and being her friend has been a downright privilege.

That’s how it is with the people we love. It never feels like we have enough time with them. Hellos and goodbyes and all the in between are more precious when we know our time with them is limited. My husband always says to me he feels like he’s already in heaven. I chuckle and ask does it also feel like hell because I'm not easy to live with. I offend someone daily. He tells me that’s heaven too.  

Sometimes someone special enters our lives for a split second leaving us wanting more. Sometimes they’ve been standing in front of us all along, we just didn’t open our eyes wide enough. It seems we understand the fragility of life when death is imminent but the true measure of existence is in the smallest of moments. The laughs. The dinners. Hugs. The ways in which we take care of one another every day.  

Time an illusion. The hours, minutes, seconds here to keep us organized. Nothing is meant to stay the same. Temporary. Our joys, our sufferings, all temporary. When we understand the impermanence that is our lives, we are no longer chained to our suffering. The only certainty is death and even then we have an opportunity for a hello, keeping them closer than we ever imagined. 

What it is today won’t be what is tomorrow or what it will be in ten minutes. It will be different. It’s meant to be. All the amazing people I've said hello and goodbye to I've never forgotten because the indelible mark they've left on my life is the only thing that feels permanent.