Somehow I guess I thought saying goodbye to Indianapolis would be easier.  Instead I find myself experiencing a strange pain of which I can't quite put my finger on the source.  Perhaps it's my well-warrented hatred of saying goodbye or maybe it's the realization that I had something a little more real here than I had ever really understood...or the infinate amount of other possibilities that are beyond my consious undersanding.  I am always amazed at the human capacity to love.  Just when I think my heart is broken into so many pieces that it will never be able to hold another person inside it...it does.  It just does it...even without my permission.  God, I hate that sometimes. 

Moving on is another subject entirely.  I have been moving, on average, every two years since I was eight years old. You would think that I would be used to starting over...and yet, I'm not.  However, I can't deny that indescribable feeling of the excitement of the unknown.  This time is a little different though.  This time I'm not completely on my own which is a comfort beyond words. 

So...in my tribute to Indianapolis I will risk being cliche and cheezie and say that I have learned so much in the past three years.  I have learned who I want to become.  I have learned how to open up my heart and invite others inside even when it hurts.  I have learned how to say goodbye, let go, and still have peace. I have learned to have hope and trust in that which I cannot see.  And in the words of a greeting card I once read, I have come to the understanding that sometimes the pain of staying tight in a bud surpasses the risk of opening up into a bloom.

Goodbye Indianapolis, I will miss you.