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How Many Times Have You Said Goodbye?

Well, we survived another Leap Day and no one seems any worse for the wear.

Or, is it possible that the ‘worse for the wear’ happens later? If so, don’t tell me.

I think I got through this week on sheer will-power. It started innocently enough. I read a post about divorce. Of course, after reading I thought: Wow, this writer is brilliant. If all she needs are page views to make a small fortune, she’s hit the Holy Grail. If she’s really trying to impart wisdom then I’m honestly just a little afraid, but that’s a ‘narcissism as art’ post for another day.

The truth is (and I’m only telling you this), I missed someone for the first time in a long time this week. It’s true. I opened a book and saw a note he left me almost two years ago and for a second, I missed something, even though I couldn’t put my finger on it even if you threatened me with physical harm.

I just remembered that at that one brief moment, we each had exactly what we needed.

Thinking about that transported me (only mentally, sadly) back to Paris. Smarty just said that one day I will be referring to Paris as ‘going home’ and she is right. But this morning, I was thinking about the Pont de Arts and my recent visit ‘home’.

I had never heard of the Locks of Love  until March of 2011 and by that point, I had already returned home to New York. Just a few weeks sooner, and I would have known to bring my very own lock to leave on one of the bridges.

This year, I made it a mini mission to search out all of the bridges I could. Of course, at each bridge, I found locks. Lots and lots of them. What I also found was a feeling of love and, in many ways, hope.

Hope is the great relationship equalizer, isn’t it?

Oh, the locks. I stood on the Pont de Arts on a day that was so perfect, even with its chilly temperatures, and I held back a few tears. I didn’t feel sad or alone or lonely – what I felt was hope. This hope that sort of reminded me that I’d gotten myself to my dream city not once, but twice, and one day, I’ll get myself back there and call it home because sometimes, it’s all about where you lay your head, you know?

Back to the title of this post…

I’ve had to say goodbye to a place that feels like home twice in two years, and I’ve said goodbye to relationships and to things and to ideas. And each new time, something came along that let me know I would be okay.

How do you say goodbye and have you had to do it more than you would like?

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well – I don’t. Not really. Until later, or at another time. But goodbye – that’s the final door closing for me, and I only do it after long procrastination and lots of soul searching.

Like a coin in the Trevi, or a lock on the Pont de Artes, there is a piece of me there that will always return. Perhaps not physically, but in memories. And my goodbyes have always seemed to close those memories. Pack them away in boxes in that far back corner under boxes with lighter and happier things.


It takes me a little while to get to ‘goodbye’ because I over think and always want to be sure. Nuts, yes, but I now embrace the truth about myself, lol.

But I love having that bit of ‘piece of me’ always being somewhere or with someone. It’s what makes me love being part of the universe. You really can’t get away from being a piece of something if you think that way, right?


Its never goodbye if I can help it, I much prefer see you later. Or ‘ smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast.’

I’m sure Paris will demand your return soon enough. Of that I’m sure.

Getting hopelessly lost on the subway. …


I try to never say goodbye forever unless something has seriously gone wrong. Even then, the door is still slightly open to almost everyone. I once explained to someone that an apology is really all I need to forgive all and I meant it then – still mean it now.

You? Lost. Clearly that is so untrue. See you again soon!


You sound like me! I am the same but I sometimes wonder if its a flaw in character, for some reason someone only has to be nice to me for a few minutes and I end up trusting them and classing them as a friend.


No way! No character flaws here :)

I used to be a little more open, it seems, but maybe as I get closer to 40 I am learning to downscale what doesn’t work, which is so funny because everyone told me that would be the case and I pooh poohed them!

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