A quiet farewell

It was a somewhat surreal week as my godparents' family made their final preparations and exit from our town. It's hard to even call it our town anymore, as their presence and personality have been an integral part of my view of the city's identity even from before my arrival here. Not unlike the years preceding it, the exit was tumultuous, but inlaid with moments of serenity and, ultimately, grace.

We shared our last planned dinner together in mid-week and, as is perhaps all too common several days before even an eminent departure, the finality of this chapter in our lives had yet to become salient. Catching me unawares, it was during the weary, exhausted post-packing and loading respite that a true "breaking of bread" sense had arrived, as we foraged and erased the remnants of ice cream from the freezer. As we had spent most of our time together over the years at the dinner table, I am happy to have that moment bookend it all.

In the latter part of the week was the actual packing and loading, which involved an obscene amount of cubic feet of transport volume. I came to help, and returned to help more when the ordeal was revealed to be ominously larger than expected. But with a little ingenuity, some persistence, and a lot of patience, we found a way to get all that mattered (and when there is three decades of life for three generations packed into one house, there's a lot that matters). I am happy to have made that possible.

Farewell to you. Thank you for the years of companionship and good luck out West. I will see you again.

There is something perhaps a little sick about me in that, in a visceral way, I actually enjoy moving. Not moving myself mind you, as typically I'm helping others move. Part of it is certainly the engineer in me. Moving almost always requires some amount of problem solving, spatial visualization and planning, and a lot of hard work and cooperative interaction... all under (usually) hard real-time constraints. Unlike most schoolwork though, the work is physical in nature and the results are quite tangible. So there is a certain indulgence that can be had. Plus I'm a fucking good packer -- as in loading vehicles/cargo spaces, i.e. the knapsack problem. (Fortunately, I'm also equally happy to let someone take the captain's chair and just be a grunt.)

But there is more. I think the bigger reason is because (rightly or wrongly) I feel like moving tells you who your true friends are. It's a time of vulnerability where others are called to arms, to help you move forward with your life. I've been party to many a move, and I've undertaken each one rather personally. To me, it's a show of commitment (who's willing to stick it out with you) and demonstration of goodwill (who's willing to toil for you), and I've always appreciated the opportunity to step up. Well... almost always =).

I probably attach too much relevance to such a common act. However, I guess it probably reflects on some of the rawest, oldest ideas of friendship in my mind. Anyhow, this last move triggered me to articulate those ideas, so if anyone agrees or disagrees, I'd be curious to know. [05:04]