Hasta Pronto - On Going Away and Saying Goodbyes

They say memories are a mode of clasping the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. When I shut my eyes tightly, I can almost picture my memories playing out in front of me, like sitting in the front row of my favorite film. The hue is crispy. The sound is inspiring. I am lying on my back on a drift. The sun is setting. The waves astound me in a lazy way, making elusive rustling sounds. And I am happy. I play this memory time and again, like a child who watches his favorite Barney video for the 100th time and never gets bored of it.

So how actually does one pack and leave behind everyone and everything they’ve known for more than 5 years? Regardless of how many times you’ve done this jazz, it’s very tough each and every time. Why can’t we accumulate all the people together in the world that we really are fond of and then just stay together? I suppose that wouldn’t work. Someone will leave. Someone has to leave - and then we have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes.

As the moments wind down to my American exodus, my non-confined enthusiasm is somewhat eclipsed by the poignant reality that I’ll be leaving things and people behind.  5 years of my life here in Portland have been elevating and rewarding in every way. As me and my husband, begin a new chapter in our lives, we feel gloomy for all that we’re leaving behind.

“Goodbye Canon Beach, Mount Hood, Multnomah Falls. Goodbye Thai Cabin, Sweet Tomatoes and Olive Garden. Goodbye Portland rain, sunny skies, sandy beaches, and flamboyant falls. Goodbye Chennai Masala, Lentil Garden and Curry Leaf, Goodbye US 101, Vista point and Crater Lake. Goodbye – to everything.

Goodbye–such a tough word to say.

And yet it is a word that we utter day-to-day, weekly, once-a-month, annually and recurrently.

You’d believe it would get easier to say it but unfortunately, such is not the case.

The sentiments that exist in its two syllables are tough to process.

As I look outside the window once more, I apprehend that only a silver haze is visible.

It’s after all not a haze. It’s hope. Let me explain.

No too long ago, I met this old lady at a grocery store and we exchanged casual conversation. When I told her that I was too sad to leave this city and country, she explained what seemed like just the right ray of silver lining I needed. She said to me “Goodbye has too much inevitability or conclusiveness to it. In its place, let’s say, ‘hasta pronto’ which implies - Until we meet again.

Yes, she was indeed right.

Hasta pronto anchorages hope and prospect.

Hasta pronto seems to assure that we shall meet again soon.

Hasta pronto lets us to believe that soon we shall toast over a glass of wine, fight over who pays the bill first, or laugh at the pranks we pull on each other.

Hasta pronto.

The harmonious notes of these two words bring warmth to my heavy heart; like a cradlesong, they pacify my apprehensive frame of mind.

Hasta pronto.

I sit here at the airport, look outside the window and shut my eyes.

I hear the sound of the sea as it clatters against the rocks.

I feel the friendliness of the sun as it strokes my skin.

I smell the fragrance of the rain touching the earth.

I touch the red, yellow and orange leaves during the splendid season of fall.

I pop my tongue out to taste the snowflakes.

Hasta pronto friends – until we meet again!

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