No farewell words

While I drove you to the airport I thought about goodbyes.  The oldest memory of seeing my brother off, in which I remembered the detail of the playground not the goodbye.  An earlier drive in which a car had tapped me, at a similar time of the morning.  Of the partying and the goodbyes I had made when leaving the other country for this one when I was young.  Of the loved ones I left behind.  But none of these were farewell words, so until next time: happy adventures and explores.

It has long been that I have stopped trying to calm the storm, the storm blows with fury about me and while I try to calm myself waiting for it to blow itself out I find this process is not productive.  And then I think back and wonder why the storm didn't blow in my favour.  And then I chastise myself for staring down into the well of self pity.  Self pity is never the route to productivity.  But soon this storm will blow away.

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