When It Hits

When something stressful comes up, my automatic reaction is to push it to the back of my mind and to busy myself so that I don't think about what's really happening.

And although moving to college isn't all about stress, I had done the same thing to it.

I don't feel sadness easily. I minimize everything, looking at the bigger picture instead of the every detail.

It's a safer way for my heart to live.

And I've worked at tearing down my wall of emotional staidness, but I still stand on the too cautious side instead of the over exuberant in regard to friendship or tears.

Leaving Camp, I missed people, but it wasn't a big deal. Life moves on, right? I felt a sense of emptiness and loss of direction, but it was okay.

Now, tomorrow... tomorrow... I am leaving my family.

And up to this point I was okay with it. It hadn't touched a nerve.

Today's my second day of packing, finishing up what I started yesterday. And as I was packing, my dad walked in with a newspaper article that he had read when he was on the plane coming back from Indonesia.

Looking for a reason to stop packing, I immediately sat down and read it. You can find it *here*. It was well written and I could really align with some of the feelings that the young girl had.

I returned it to my dad and told him what I thought. Then he paused and said, "I also really like it, because that's what I'm feeling right now."

And as we hugged and he rubbed my back and also as I type this, the tears pool in my eyes making it hard to see, and that acidic sting climbs up my nose.

It hadn't hit me until now.

And I know that it's all going to be good, but it feels good to grieve a little.

To grieve that it's time to move on, and yet I haven't had enough time with them yet.

Haven't had enough time with a father who, after returning from Indonesia, came into my room with two little perfume sampler papers. To anyone else, that would mean nothing. To me, it meant everything. It meant he cared ... cared so much to revive a memory we made when I was young. We had been in an airport, waiting for our next flight, when he came over to us two girls and asked, "Do you want to go perfume browsing?" As a young girl, I was slightly shocked that my dad... my dad!... had suggested this. But perfume browsing we went, and we made a forever memory. And as he laid those two pieces of paper on my bed, he said, "I went perfume browsing again, and thought of you." Those papers meant everything.

Haven't had enough time with a mother that throughout the years has always been available to help with homework, popping into my room every once in awhile to make sure that it's all going good, who as I'm packing now, suggests random things that I might need. Who sits attentively as I talk through life's little problems late at night. Who is always encouraging. Who just came into my room, where I'm sitting on my chair, typing with my computer on my lap and leaned down over me, and kissed me on the top of my head, with a "hello..." and then left. I don't think that she even saw that I had just been crying...And through it all, I see how she cares. All those little things? They mean everything.

Haven't had enough time with a sister who is more like a twin and best friend than a younger sister. Someone who I can talk to about anything, who tells me that I'm crazy, but still goes along with it. One who feels free to cry in my presence and to give as well as receive encouragement. One with whom I shared a bedroom with for 14 years. One who just started Gr. 12 this year, excited and looking forward to everything. One who pursues her Father with all her heart. Those talks we had late at night about nothing and everything? They mean everything.

Haven't had enough time with Bud, the one that still gives me morning hugs and lets me win when we wrestle. The one who is incorrigibly cheeky and yet has one of the softest hearts that I know. He's growing up so fast. And I'm going to miss the little things that make me smile about him. The little moments when I can see what he's going to be like when he grows up. Our inside jokes, saying things just to get him to pull faces, pushing his buttons. Little things... they mean everything.

Haven't had enough time with my little tag-along. The little Boo that is always wanting a cuddle, wanting to hang around with me. And I hope that I have never turned her away when she really needed the time with me. I hope that I have been the older sister to her that I never had. I hope that I have shown her that it's what's inside that counts instead of what's outside. Her little perky smile, her snoopiness into my business that shows her need, herself. She means everything.

They all do. They all mean everything to me. Not just the things that they do, but just being there.

And I'm ready to leave... I really am. I'm just leaving behind some very special people who deserve to have a few tears shed for their absence....