Sentimental Slush

[check Lizz's blog about her trip, Ndafunga Dande]

Saturday was Lizz's Send Off Party at Chicago's Grafton (my fav place for Irish whiskey) then Lincoln Karaoke: a proper night of booze and friends topped with a rendition of Toto's Africa. The wave of tears at 2 am can be blamed for my forthcoming mushiness. And tears again on the train after leaving lunch with Lizz yesterday.

It would be easier to have the type of friends who want to stay in one place and rot. I have the friends who are smart, moody, independent and ambitious. Today Lizz goes home to Zimbabwe. And now in New York, in Maine, Indiana, Chicago...in Zim my People are scattered about. Things are shifting, like tectonic plates shaking-up life. It's hard to believe I incited part of this, that I was feeling brave and crazy enough to move away.

I undergo daily yearning for company with my friends and family. Yearning to be face to face with the ones I most adore. I feel like a child who wants what they can't have. If you have loved any People, you might know this variety of suffering.

We are strong enough, I am, to go alone on our journeys. Yet I am vulnerable to the thoughts of what I left behind. It's changing and can't be changed back. With desperation I wish I could contain all my friends in one place, one city, to waive their rights for choosing paths. But those are not my kind of friends. My sort know better than anyone how to let loose, endure, rise above, and never accept the norm. I am lucky to know them; I'm learning that luck doesn't mean getting just what I wanted.