Goodbye Room

I’m down to my last day in Framingham.  Yesterday my parents and I hosted a goodbye brunch for family and friends, and it was the best brunch a Jewish girl could have asked for: good people, good bagels and schmear, and of course, a cake decorated to look like the Nicaraguan flag.  Ah, bliss.  But all good things must end, and saying goodbye was really tough.  I think my family is having a competition to see who can make me cry the most.  So far Grandma Dot and Ariel are tied for first place, but points also go to Nadine and Dad for catching my elusive tears on film.  I should have invested in waterproof mascara…jerks.

So as you may have guessed, I repeated the word “goodbye” a lot at my goodbye brunch. So much so that it reminded me of the children’s story, Goodnight Moon, in which the word “goodnight” is repeated incessantly throughout the story. So here’s a little take on that story, but my story is called, Goodbye Room:

Goodbye room.
Goodbye sleeping till noon.
Goodbye electricity.
And the words “see you soon.”

Goodbye bed.
Goodbye Breakfast Club poster above my head.

Goodbye pale skin.
Goodbye Trader Joe’s coffee in a tin.

Goodbye big screen TV.
Goodbye orange autumn trees.

Goodbye snow.
Goodbye everything I know.

Goodbye Mom.
And goodbye Dad.
Goodbye friends.
Goodbye all the good times we’ve had.
And goodbye sisters.
Goodbyes are sad.

Goodbye Dad’s Scout.
Goodbye cold air.
Goodbye to everyone everywhere.

My last day will be spent wearing my fuzzy pink socks with slippers, taking one (or two) hot showers, getting lunch with Grandma Gloria at the Wayside Inn, meeting my baby cousin Tyler for the first time, and getting dinner at Publick House, my favorite Brookline establishment.

Nicaragua, here I come.

This entry was posted in Invitee, Peace Corps. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Goodbye Room

  1. Mom says:

    I have finally made it to your blog and find that it reflects you to a tee; your inner beauty, intelligence, depth and creative artistry. I look forward to all that you care to share with us. Love, Mom

    Like

  2. mongy says:

    i love this poem 🙂 and your drawing from the baptism post. just though i’d let you know. miss you!

    Like

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