I have so much I want to write about, but how I am feeling
right now is too overwhelming to veer away from it. So this will probably stay
pretty on track.
I have had an unbelievable few weeks. Downright remarkable. And
in the best ways. I spent July 1-12 touring the Midwest with two great Richmond
bands- Shy, Low and Comrades- a good portion of whom happen to also be some of
my best friends. The whole thing happened abruptly, all my friends were leaving
town to tour and I was getting antsy about missing them with so little time
left in RVA. Before I know it I’m climbing in the back of an early nineties
Volvo station wagon and heading out on the road with them. That week and a half
is still a blur, but it’s clear to me now why people love to live that way. So
many moments of those 12 days are crystal clear in my head, and extraordinarily
close to my heart.
I think at one point Ian, the bassist for Shy, Low, asked us
a pretty echoing question while we stood on a rooftop in Chicago’s Wicker Park
and watched fireworks go off in every direction around us as far as the eye
could see. What he asked was simple, and rhetorical, but hit the nail square on
the head:
“Do you ever just know that you’re experiencing something
that you’re going to remember for the rest of your life?”
And that question completely explains everything I’ve been
feeling both during and after tour.
It’s like I’m living my life with the red light on- trying to record as
much as I can. Store it up. I’ve never felt like I’ve been inside such a
fragile bubble of rose-tinted bliss.
I move in five days. I will pack every morning, teach every
afternoon, and spend every evening I can in the company of the people I have
left here that have affected me so deeply. One of them is still out on the
road, as Shy, Low’s tour continued when Comrades and I came home. And I miss him
like someone has removed a portion of my heart from my chest. On Saturday I
will drive away from Richmond and I honestly believe that I will not be
returning home. Maybe I’ll come back physically, but this place will cease to
be to me what it has been all these years. In a lot of ways, Raleigh felt
impermanent. Like my soul knew it would return before I really had time to miss
it. And it was right. But my move to Indiana- my situation, my intention, all
of it- is such a different animal than the one I was wrestling last December.
I am not going to miss this town. I’ve seen enough to know
that a place is just a place. And it is not a city, but the people in it, that
make it special to you. The friends I have here are the kind you cannot look
for. You cannot find them through shared musical taste or moral convictions.
While preferential similarities are nice, and lend to easy conversation and
activities, this is not what has made my friendships here so strong. The people
I have in Richmond who I call my friends have seen me grow and change- be it
through almost a decade or just a single year- and have loved me, cared for me,
and stood by me through all my mistakes and alterations. They have missed me
when I’ve gone, been with me when I’ve returned, and held my hand through the darkest
and brightest moments of my life. I have learned communication, trust,
reliance, and most of all love from these friends. What ties us is a meeting of
minds- of souls, even- and an echoing truth that in a world so full of deceit
we can be honest and ourselves with one another. I have never had to hide from
them, and I hope they’ve never felt they needed to hide from me. And these
people are a small group- I can count them on one hand, easy. But their impact
rocks me to my soul and reminds me every moment of every day how blessed I am
to be graced with such unconditional and positive love.
It’s not hard to leave Richmond, but it is hard to leave
these relationships. In a lot of ways I’m used to having friends I need to say
goodbye to- with how much I’ve traveled and the things I’ve done it’s a
necessity. It’s easy to know that our friendships will not end but merely
change shape. They’ll become friendships built on communication and phone calls
and the occasional visit, not the drop-by-whenever and daily activities that
they’ve been. And it is this change in the nature of our relationship that I’m
dreading, because I adore what we have so much. I hope it is not out of line to let you know that I will miss
every day I do not see your face, hear your laughter, and participate in your
daily life. I have not been lucky in life as to find many places I felt like I
fit. In fact, most of my life has revolved around feeling out of step and
unsure of how to feel at ease. But with you, I have found an unerring ability
to be all of myself without feeling shame. You are the best people I know, and
there will always be places in my heart that specifically hold your shapes.
I understand that without risk there cannot be a reward.
But in this moment, at 2:45 AM, I cannot help but wish that by some magic I
could have everyone and everything I love in one place. Because my passions lie
elsewhere, but so many of the relationships that have helped me be strong
enough to follow these opportunities are here. And while I live my life on a
keen understanding that everything passes- that everything will always end up
okay- I cannot think of much right now beyond how terribly I will miss you how
badly I wish I didn’t have to.
But it will be okay. Of that, at least, I am sure. This move is risky, but necessary. Because while my relationships here make me happy, my life away from them is a pretty dead-end road. The things I want to do and see are not here, and the biggest lesson I've learned this year is that the most important person I need to satisfy is myself. Leaving anything you love is hard, and there's been a lot of discussion of late about the taking of chances and the act of blind leaping without certainty of a net. I have opportunity that can lead to further opportunity where I'm going, and there are people there that I care about also and who are welcoming me into their lives with open arms. While picking up and changing everything isn't the easiest thing in the world, I know for certain that it is the difficult things that are the most worthwhile. And the goodbyes definitely scare me, but I'm looking forward to my next adventure-- and am exceptionally humbled and thankful for how much this last one has prepared me for it. Because I am ready to jump.
So here goes nothing.
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