sentimental

Someone emailed me recently and expressed that she did not know how I did it, seeing another class graduate; most of the students I have known for many years. How I must feel like I am losing some piece of myself each year. And in thinking about it, she is right. I have always been torn up at the end of the year. There are people I will truly miss. I like to think that I will see them all again, and I certainly will see some. But others...

Some years ago, not long after I met Y, I began work on a piece that I see as continually in progress; I wrote a tiny parable about a man who, upon waking infested with fleas, swims straight out in the ocean, toward the sun. Little did I know then that this is a parable that is true for me. I will probably never complete the piece, just as the man will never reach the sun.