Euro-Franz isn’t one to cherish or even approve of long goodbyes. Perhaps he’s said goodbye too many times. When he lived in Japan all those years ago, he was even known to pop in and out of town without a word. Somehow he was always able to book tickets for flights either too early or too late for others to care about showing up at the airport. Or to even know. He’s left too many countries to name without so much as an acknowledgment that he was on his way out. Perhaps the best goodbyes are the ones unspoken that leave no residual emotional messiness. No remains for those who after all remain where one has left.
Which is why yesterday’s orgazmo of farewells was particularly unwelcome. I didn’t mind saying goodbye to my professors, but when I was forced to interrupt classes to announce to people I barely knew that I was leaving, a line had been crossed. It’s nothing personal because I don’t even know them. They certainly do not know me. We passed each other a few times in hallways; I perhaps noticed them in required gatherings. But there was never any real chance of a connection. We are far too different, and I am considerably more different than they, than Thou. Making such announcements made me want to cover my head and duck into a dark corner, abandon my bags and jump on the next train pulling away from the station, stick out my thumb and accept the next stranger’s offer of a ride. Life is far too short to attempt or move toward something lasting. Like breath: you aren’t doing it correctly if you only inhale. At least one half of the process is letting it all go. Escape. Release. Goodbye.