this is our last goodbye

i remember our first goodbye. i drove to meet you that morning. i had to feel your hug, breathe you in. i remember that day, before we had cell phones. i drove with my cordless phone to see how far i could make it before i lost you. i think i got to the end of the driveway. i gave you that poster i found for you. the mix tape. the mix tape with songs about us. and a letter to explain each one. you were getting dressed when i walked in. we talked. you were nervous. i was sad. we talked of me visiting. we promised to write. i loved your letters. i still have every single one. pieces of you that no one else ever got to see. pieces of you that no one else ever knew existed. you walked me to my car. i wanted you to pack me in one of your boxes. the thought of starting the engine and driving off seemed like that hardest thing i'd ever have to do. i was confused, sad, not sure where i was driving to. i drove down to the water and just sat in my car, listening to a mix tape, and cried. at the time i never expected to recover from that goodbye. almost eleven years later i'm faced with another one. you always come back to me. i say goodbye. i pretend to be over you. i pretend to cut you out of my life. but like clockwork you reappear every two months. we promised we'd stay in touch. again we discussed plans to visit. again i'm faced with a goodbye i don't know how to recover from. losing you when you're twenty minutes away doesn't seem that severe. losing you to the opposite side of the country does. the insanity that was us. and now that we both have cells, i'm wondering how far you'll make it before i lose you.