Tonight was our farewell party. I waited for seven 0'clock and the first chime of the doorbell with the anticipation of a ten year-old at her birthday party. And when it was all over, I collapsed on the couch with the same exhaustion and exhilaration felt by that ten year-old when she stays up past her bedtime with her bestest of friends.
But before any of this was possible, my dad made the invitations, my mother prepared the food, and I made the guest list which, once complete, struck me as slightly odd. Forty-five would be the average age of the attendees. Including myself and Brandon, there were only four people under forty. Odd though it may be, the group gathered in my mother's kitchen made perfect sense to me.
This isn't to say that the people I shared with tonight are people I phone on the weekends or send Christmas cards to. We don't meet during the holidays or know each other's middle names. Others might assume we are mere acquaintances, but when faced with the prospect of saying Goodbye, these were the people I wanted to say Goodbye to in person.
They are the people whose faces appear before me when I think of my childhood, the years when the person I am today began to take shape. They are people whose doors have been open to me at one time or another, who have blessed my life with their loving acceptance. Some have been consistent coffee-mates. Some are unlikely kindred spirits. Some I consider an auntie, an uncle, a sister.
Together, they were the village that raised this child, and I honor them.
Fare thee well.
But before any of this was possible, my dad made the invitations, my mother prepared the food, and I made the guest list which, once complete, struck me as slightly odd. Forty-five would be the average age of the attendees. Including myself and Brandon, there were only four people under forty. Odd though it may be, the group gathered in my mother's kitchen made perfect sense to me.
This isn't to say that the people I shared with tonight are people I phone on the weekends or send Christmas cards to. We don't meet during the holidays or know each other's middle names. Others might assume we are mere acquaintances, but when faced with the prospect of saying Goodbye, these were the people I wanted to say Goodbye to in person.
They are the people whose faces appear before me when I think of my childhood, the years when the person I am today began to take shape. They are people whose doors have been open to me at one time or another, who have blessed my life with their loving acceptance. Some have been consistent coffee-mates. Some are unlikely kindred spirits. Some I consider an auntie, an uncle, a sister.
Together, they were the village that raised this child, and I honor them.
Fare thee well.
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