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Philadelphia, PA 19104

i'm leaving tomorrow and haven't even begun to pack

Gabrielle's World

i'm leaving tomorrow and haven't even begun to pack

Gabrielle Hickmon

I never thought I’d be happy again.

I convinced myself that happiness for me only existed on that island, at that school, in that nook and cranny with pancakes and freezing walls. Because, somewhere between football, Beyond the Lights and train trips, I fell in happy again.

The problem being that you were there, I was here and those two places were not and could not be the same.

Crying. Tears. God laughing.
Wondering how I’d ever find my way home again and if I could truly go back.
If going back meant leaving my happy, would I ever find it again? Would happy ever exist for me again?

The answer is yes and the answer is no - because no two happys are ever the same and this one is markedly different because it lacks you, us, we together. Markedly different because it caught me by surprise, whereas you, us, we, together, I felt coming. Knew you were on your way to me before you arrived. Thought I’d already had it actually, before even truly reaching you, reaching us, reaching we, reaching together. Therefore…

I never thought I’d be happy again.
In fact, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be. Looking back, I’d describe my state as manic or euphoric and that scares me – scares me because it’s a kind of joy, a happy that isn’t stable and can’t last. I of course happened to come crashing down in an airport, seated at a gate full of people where I fought back tears and wondered if anything would ever feel sane again. If I would ever feel sane and the same again. If sameness and saneness were ways I wanted to feel again. Wondering how I’d be here when the only place I wanted to be was there with you, we, us, together – with happy.

I’m leaving tomorrow and I haven’t even begun to pack because how does one prepare for that? Bring themself back from that?

The other side of manic euphoria is depression. It’s hanging an out to lunch sign and hoping, praying, that someday you’ll return. It’s getting to know a new, another happy – a contented one – and waiting for the other shoe to drop because life can’t possibly stay this good for this long without something wicked this way coming.

It’s almost been a year and I’m happy again. No longer crying myself to sleep and searching for us in every snap. A happy that is for once rooted in myself – and not the presence of absence of a man, family, friend, or place. Although there are of course, always, all ways, ties to everything around us.

A happy that’s developed and sustainable. That knows here is where I have to, prayed to, and want to be. Thankful for to the past for gifts and lessons, while deeply rooted in the here and now, unconcerned and unafraid of whatever lies ahead.

A happy that knows deciding to be here is the key - even though, especially when, and always because, love will forever be the why.