So Long, Lebanon

So Long, Lebanon

I have never liked saying goodbye. It’s always so final and awkward. There’s plenty of empty promises when it comes to meeting again and half baked plans for hangouts. But, I relish in the comfort that we will meet again. Maybe not soon, but again. But what do you say when you know you’re never going to see them again? I sigh. I’ve been thinking about this moment all night. What am I supposed to say?

Thanks for being my best friend for the nine days. It sucks that we’ll never see each other again? Realistic. We’ll see each other again! This isn’t goodbye! We’ll text every single day! A lie. We aren’t going to see each other ever again, I think as I lug my suitcase into the elevator. We live on different continents. We aren’t going to text every day because of the seven-hour time difference.

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We walk on campus petting the dogs we find along the way, buying coffee, and sitting on our special couch. She and I spend at least half an hour a day sitting in silence, working, or scrolling. She understands that you don’t always have to talk to connect. We spend our 2 AMs sharing bags of tortilla chips and gossiping about people we’ve only known for nine days. She walks me across campus late at night when I lock myself out of my dorm.

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Now I’m going home. The elevator dings open and my feet trudge across the scratchy shag carpet that fits the bottom of the elevator. I wrestle my suitcase to the door, my garment bag getting caught on everything. The whole lobby has an air of sadness lingering in it. I watch other friend groups hug and cry as they head out to waiting parents or shuttle buses to the airport. A shiver runs down my spine, but I don’t know if it’s from the cold or the emotion.

I face her. This is my hardest goodbye. I feel it deep in my heart that we will never meet again in this lifetime. It’s an unspoken tenet of our friendship: it will be cut short by circumstance.

We hug and I feel empty. I don’t want to say goodbye. Tears prick into my eyes and my mascara prepares itself for the long run down my cheeks. The cold swallows me in every way imaginable. I see my family waiting outside the glass doors for me. A few days ago I missed them and wanted to go home. I cried to her about how much I missed them, which was pretty stupid of me looking back since she came from a whole other continent. Now I dread the five hour drive back home. Every mile driven proves that there’s no coming back together.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll see each other again.” A lie.