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.