Saying Goodbye: We all wish our time would last a little longer
“It’s hard to say goodbye,” my friend Verlyn commented as we paddled the kayak toward shore at Scott Lake, noticing a young couple embracing passionately, before the male floated on a paddleboard away from shore.
It was another Historic Scott State Park weekend, as three of us initially gathered to commemorate a tradition that had spanned 20 years. The August weekend was planned each January by Verlyn, a Newton native who has lived in Denver for many years. The weekend selected always coincides with the projected peak of the annual Perseid Meteor Shower. This year, I, along with Verlyn and Jack — Verlyn’s cousin from Wichita — showed up on Friday.
Over the years, a lot of friends and family have spent a night or two at the cabin on the hill: Wes, who died almost two years ago; Alan, who farms in Harvey County and showed up on Saturday evening this year, arriving after I had departed; Dan, my friend from Pratt; Vince, Verlyn’s brother, who was busy this year with his job at the flower shop in Newton (and a recent spate of tragic deaths in that community); and Verlyn’s cousin, Scott, and his friend, Jeff.
Saying goodbye is never easy, for whatever reason we have to do so. We all wish the time would last a little longer.
Reality, stress and loss await outside the bounds of Scott. We know we can’t stay here forever, but the suspension of everyday reality; the opportunity to catch up on each other’s lives; and the promise of falling stars, scenery, swimming, boating and hiking provide ample space to create memories to take back home.
So, it ends, more or less, like this: those that are able to linger longer gather out in front of the cabin to say goodbye to the ones that leave early. Fortunately, in that goodbye lies the hope and promise that Perseid will roll around once again.