Driving through southern Oregon, we cross over a waterway. The sign labels it as Lost River, and Alrica immediately states, “I found it!” This makes me wonder: what proportion of people crossing over that bridge make the same comment (or one so closely related as to be indistinguishable as far as the humor goes.) Probably pretty high.
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| Now you've found the Lost River too! |
On the topic of proportions, if I were to ask people if goodbye is a beginning or an ending, which would win? My guess: an ending. “Hello” is the start of a conversation, “goodbye” is the termination. That makes sense. If I started with goodbye I’d be considered rude. And I wouldn’t get to enjoy much social interaction. (I know, reading this you most likely suspect I don’t enjoy much social interaction regardless of how my dialogues commence.)
But if we adjust the context, no longer about a conversation, but instead about an adventure, then goodbye can be the starting point. And so it is. Or will be? Or both?
Our new adventure begins with two goodbyes, to be followed rather soon by a third. It doesn’t start with three goodbyes. That’s because the third of these will happen mid-adventure, though certainly on the early side of the mid.
However, this is all unnecessarily vague. To be plain, we are leaving our home city of six years and taking to the road. Since 2017, we’ve lived in Reno, Nevada. Here our children finished schools of varied levels.
Carver finished high school and his undergraduate work. Syarra completed middle school and high school. So we have no further tethers to Reno or any other city. Thus untethered, we roam.
Carver is now entrenched in Eugene, Oregon. He will be pursuing his doctorate in physics at the University of Oregon.
That brings us to our first goodbye. We said goodbye to Carver, no longer a child. He gets to become an adult, design his own life, shape himself into the independent human he wants to be.
It’s great. Independent fully-functioning adults - the goal of the parent, right? Yet, there is a little hole in my contentedness at present, a nodule of sadness knowing it will be many months until I see him again. In time that void will morph into a kernel of happy memories of my times with my son. But right now – little bit sad.
Then, in three days, we say goodbye (our second goodbye) to Reno. Alrica and I have sold, donated, or disposed of almost everything we own. The little we have left will be crammed into the trunk of our one remaining car – the car which shall not be named – and we are off to the east.
In the three weeks that follow, we will explore new places, visit family in places we’ve been, and trend toward Syracuse, New York. Syarra is starting this fall at Syracuse University. That will be the third goodbye I was teasing earlier in this post.
After our youngest is deposited at her school, Alrica and I become digital nomads. We will be going to housesits, caring for animals, and discovering the wonders of North America. We’d love to see our friends as we pass near them. And, as you may have gathered from this post, we are restarting our blog.
This is a huge empty-nester adventure and it’s wonderful. Except for the saying goodbye (three goodbyes) which kicks it off.
That’s why I feel a bit like the river my wife so cleverly located as we passed over it. Sure, I know where I am. But, like the river, you could legitimately label me as a
