Slowly, Slowly, I am Drifting.

I watched a movie this past weekend that touched on the iffy subject of being 'left in the middle of your life'. The character even offered to have another breakdown if her friend would just stay a bit longer, as if that were a prized incentive.

I feel like that sometimes. Well, let's just be honest - the familiarity of 'being left in the middle of my life' creeps up on me more often than I'd like to admit, and too often does it make me feel sick. I go away for a weekend trying to escape the normalcy that has become my life at Behrend, and then Monday rolls back on around. Friends come to visit and we have heart-to-hearts with a side of chocolate cake and good music, and then they are gone, back to their other lives.

It never gets old or easier, saying goodbye. I take one last glance in my rearview mirror and then focus on the road that will take me home, back to my life. I wrap my arms around your neck one more time before I catch your eye and bid your farewell, back to your life.

And here we sit, both in the midst, in media res, with our own problems and delights and confusions.

And here we sit, once again, apart.

I wish sometimes that being in the middle of my own life weren't such a negative thing -- that the need to escape wouldn't be such a hinderance to the now, the present. And as much as I try to accept it, the whole going back thing, I find myself thinking of what was, what could have been, and what might just be the next time we meet again.