According to what I have read, mangroves float out on the water, holding dirt from storms and sediment that their roots collect. And sometimes, these mangroves are able to join together and create entire floating islands of mangroves. And then eventually by some force of nature, mangroves break off and float on their way again.
Physically moving across the country, I feel like my own little island floating off, breaking off from a larger collective - though I suppose most of us are in the same boat, but I feel like my journey goes down a longer, lonelier path. But regardless, it seems that for the first while, I'll be leaving, but tendrils of leaves are still holding on, stretching out until they inevitably break from the tension. And then I'm floating by myself, ready to join another island. Of course those vines don't have to break - it's just that the knowledge that some of them will, and that others will be hard to maintain that gets to me sometimes.
I have many friends. Some friends are closer than others. Some seem like come and go friends. Others I feel like my roots are entwined with. And many are somewhere in between. I feel like a man falling off a cliff, grasping at anything he can hold on to - or at least that's how I'd imagine it in my mind's eye. It's just figuring out what to grasp on to. Maybe a better analogy is the man who catches 40 pounds of fish but can only carry 10 pounds home. Here he is, grasping at all the fish flopping in his arms, trying to save as much as his catch as possible. But then there soon comes a point that in his struggle to grab as many fish as possible, he'll lose all of them. And therin lies the dilemma. And to add on to that, there's another mile of river left, and the fisherman still has fish to catch. Sometimes I think I have things figured out, but then everything is turned upside down. But I suppose that's life.
Another image in my head is that of a boat. And I'm going off across the ocean. I'm trying to stay on land as much as possible, and as I'm leaving, I can't help but feel the need to see land, to feel that connection. But inevitably I'm going to reach that point where all I see is water.
I suppose I've pretty much described the same feeling three different ways. But there's hope yet! Returning to the same island; returning upstream to grab a second batch of fish; coming back to the mainland. It's not impossible, but friendships and relationships take time and work. And really deep relationships require personal interaction - which is hard to do over AIM or Facebook. But if it's worth it, I'll do it. Some fish are too precious to throw back in the water.
December, here I come.