to know that nothing ever will be completely lost

i'm not who i was anymore - again.

laurie is probably move to new york city in a few weeks. she might be gone for only a few months, she might be gone for 6 months, she might be gone forever. today i went to the red, white and blue and bought us silk scarfs. i took them to her work. piled them on the counter while her boss took the customer who came in. she picked the one i knew she'd like the most. i hadn't seen her for two days and i missed her - that's really the only reason i went to her work. i bought the scarfs, sort of, as an excuse to see her at work. we spent the night on the couch watching the wire. i felt sad and happy. and i don't think it's just about her leaving.

two years ago we were ripe with heartache. the same heartache. the kind of heartache that comes when you give everything you have to someone and then they just sort of don't want it anymore - or never really wanted it at all. laurie moved home from chicago and for the last two years we've spent nearly every day together. we were motivated, we were changing, we were free, we were becoming new, we were ready. we loved new boys, but loved them differently, we went to the museum a lot, and went to frick park, and had dinners with manny, drank in her studio and danced to lauryn hill, we fell in love with david gray, and made breakfasts on thursdays, we drove across the country, we did stupid things with a purpose, we wrote songs, we sat on hardwood floors - and it was all for something. we were rebels, i guess, fighting for a little thing called freedom.

lately, things have felt much less epic. relationships are more serious - i find myself sacrificing things and feeling okay about it, time isn't measured by semesters and years - it just seems to roll on endlessly, i'm not moving to arizona again any time soon, i'm not thinking of my "next" or "better" job, i fall asleep as soon as i lay down, i don't get depressed, i don't cry much anymore, i'm not really trying to be anything, or prove anything, or show somebody something - and mostly, i miss this person that i was for two years.

sometimes, though, i remember how good change is. and that i'm changing again. and that i'm not who i was anymore. those lessons were learned, those memories were made, those stories have been crafted. and so i find myself, again, waiting. waiting for who i'll become next. waiting, like i have been for seven years in a room lit by the same lamps, sitting on the same bed, my things stacked on the same bookshelf, looking out at the same city skyline, waiting for the same pittsburgh summer, waiting for the same God to find me, to be found by me - again - and again - and again.

and although the setting is the same - the person is not. i was talking to steve today, and i could tell that he sort of expected me to be upset, maybe even a little mad that laurie was leaving. i wanted to laugh at this. if i were to feel any resentment towards her would mean that the last two years were a waste - it would mean that i'd learned nothing, it would make me a hypocrite. is it possible that i've actually learned to love selflessly - that i've actually learned to love people without wanting to own them, or keep them? i've asked for selfless love, i've asked for love that makes me feel free, i've asked for relationships that don't feel like bondage - and i think, finally, i know that i can return this to the people who i love.

donald miller once wrote this : "i want to keep my soul fertile for the changes. so things keep getting born in me and things keep dying when it's time for things to die. i want to keep walking away from the person i was a moment ago because a mind was made to figure things out not read the same pages recurrently."