The Annual Dance of the Diplomat

Back to school always seems to leave me in a slump.   I am a staunch summer lover, so the prospect of crisper temperatures and shorter days stirs sadness deep within me.  I sense an almost physical resistance, as I force myself to accept the inevitable encroachment of the seasonal shift, and begin to curl inwards to stay warm.  Whatever the weather, the start of school is symbolic, and denial quickly becomes delusional.  As each year passes, gearing up for winter gets harder, and summer somehow more fleeting.

For many though, fall is a season for fresh starts.  Classes are back in session, the September issue is chock full of new looks and rigour returns to the workplace.    It’s a serious time.  Goals are set, projects are launched and schedules gain steam.  For me, the only good news is that my sandals are sacrificed to the back of the closet and my boots finally regain their position out front.

This season’s slump is particularly poignant however, since this past Friday I had to say goodbye to a very good girlfriend of mine who is a diplomat.   As I have only ever been vaguely attuned to the late August rotation of representatives, I had not previously associated these departures so closely with the onset of autumn. 

Anyway, after ten years of grown up good times and bad, there we were at the airport choking back real tears and telling each other things between us wouldn’t change.  “What better reason for me to hop over to Europe?”, I called out bravely as she descended toward the gate.  “Besides, four years will fly by!”

Four years.  Four more fall seasons until she is home again for good.  I have no doubt we will still be the best of friends, but make no mistake things will have changed.  By then, my little girlaboutOtown won’t be so little and we won’t be so young.  By then, we will have suffered struggles we can’t currently anticipate and faced challenges we have yet to imagine.  By then, the dreams we have right now- and those we haven’t even had yet – will have already come true (or at least be well underway). 

So, as the season turns,  I have been left behind at the annual dance of the diplomat.  While I take some comfort in the notion that life happens the way it should, I still feel sad that we will be so far apart when it does. 

I suppose I will just have to find solace in the sunshine of Southern Europe sometime before Spring!