Fighting Goodbye

The three stood in a silent circle, gazing down at the sleepy little dog, lingering in the kitchen like night mist before the idyllic rise of the morning blaze. The silence hung like fog on their skin, in their eyes, in their lungs. As empty as ghosts, as overflowing as giddy children. To be such opposites so simultaneously, maybe this is how it always feels to leave one life and start another.

They stood in a silent, almost reverent circle, gazing down at the sleepy dog, delaying with all their might and willpower the inevitable. Fighting silently the walk to the doorway, the hugs that are never quite long enough, the threshold yet to be crossed. Fighting goodbye. As empty as ghosts, they made idle small talk, mostly centered around the black and white dog and his darling habits. It was small talk that at any other time might have been frivalous, a poor reflection of their deeply developed friendship. But right then, in between one chapter and the next, between fear and excitement, between nostalgia and foretelling, right then, those words meant everything. The utterly human intervals of gently protruding words and morose, wistful silence, as calm before a storm, spoke all the thoughts and meanings they couldn’t say. No words were ever breathed about not wanting to leave, about desiring to linger just a little longer than time would allow, about how important each of their lives were to the others, about how much they believed in the paths of one another, in the futures of one another. That silence, denial and anticpation in twofold, rang of past, present, and future. Memories, moments, and possibilities. Simple silence.

The three broke the silent circle, the guests bidding farewell to the darling, sleepy little dog, falling, with all reluctance, into the inevitable. As overflowing as giddy children, they hugged before the unlocked door, breathing in, as if their breathe just might hold the moment in place just a little longer than time would allow. They bid farewell to the souls to which life had bound them, if only for a little while.

It feels so strange to put such a moment into such extravagant words. Because, at the time, the moment itself wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t crafted with expertly intertwined emotions. It didn’t breathe some air of majesty and wisdom. It didn’t breathe at all. It was simply a moment, shared, caught between goodbye and new beginning. It simply happened, just as all moments do. The moment didn’t breathe as with potential and understanding and wistful reluctance. The people did.

The people did.


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