farewell

Like coming home from camp,
I'm back at home again,
With too much time on my hands,
And none of my good friends.

I didn't know how much I would miss everyone from DC. I've gotten used to the hectic schedule, living in cramped apartments, and dealing with a lot of drunk people. The last day on the steps was a drawn out goodbye circus. I didn't realize then I was bidding farewell to the girls and guys I'd come to love so much over the past four months, unsure when I'd see them again. How can I explain it?
Now when I'm bored, I look to see when the next group activity will be; class or a briefing, or going to Hawk and Dove. I expect at any time for one of the girls to walk in the door, for Jae to start another enthralling conversation and open my mind up to something new, for Masugi to send another ridiculous Tocqueville email. I wait but nothing happens. I've got my box of records, my computer, my space of carpet, my books, but nobody I'm thinking of. No Pavol, Warren, Jae, Lauren, Nikki, Javi, Adriaan, or anyone else. In everything I do, I stop and think "What would they say if they were here?" Everything. I didn't realize it would be this bad. I've never missed anyone like this.
Facebook and email are so impersonal. Facebook's nice, convenient, and the pictures on it are bittersweet like nothing I've felt before, but every wall post, every message, every comment is so tinged with a false self-deprecation, an unbidden joke, and a cordial amount of distance and coldness it makes the loss more awful by mixing your real, loving conception of a person with their facebook facade. Every person's profile I look at reminds me of all the good times we had and brings a lump into my throat. I didn't cry then but I want to weep now.
I wish I could bring all of them home with me. I want to have all the time in the world to spend with them. They are my family.
Time will dull the pain. Time will end the sadness, heal the wounds. Time will make me forget--but I don't want it to. I don't want to leave these people and that place behind. They're geniuses, all of them, geniuses at living, and they were teaching me and teaching me well, and now like any day in Rustici's class it's all over with a curt "End of lecture" and I don't want it to be. Teach me more. Fill me up. Never stop.
If I could just sit on a couch with one of them, just have another conversation, pass a few hours, and tell them in earnest what they meant to me, my heart would be eased.
Where will we all go? Will we read about each other in the papers? Will we have books up in the front of Barnes & Noble? Will we ever meet again? I know it will be so. We shall. Promises were made, and promises will be honored.
That's all I have to say.