Days Were Golden

How much will I miss my residency at Hambidge when I leave Sunday? It's only Friday and I'm fretting, heavy hearted, wondering where all the time went, the happy blur of days that somehow was two weeks. I will miss my new friends terribly, but I am appreciative of the opportunity to have met them, to connect with old souls, to talk for hours and hours and know the comfort with which these conversations began will be resumed, at a later date, a later year. I wish I could carry you in my fingertips when we part so that everything I touch will touch you as well.

Of course, I will be happy to get home, to Phuong and the animals and my old friends, never forgotten. Safe in my own bed, with familiar weights, breaths, the comfort of crowding. But I can't help but wonder whether I am not even realizing how special this time is until it is far away, never to be replicated. With so many golden days still behind and beyond, how this one shined brighter, warmer, I cannot explain. I am humbled by how lucky I am in my life, here and home. But I think, perhaps it is not all luck—if you feel you have not experienced the sun on your face, perhaps you are just too afraid to step outside.

we won't escape this memory forward on
to the place we sail—"Days Were Golden," Sunny Day Real Estate