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This morning I was confronted with the task of saying goodbye to the boy/boyfriend/person I see a lot. 

We spent last night drinking champagne, eating chocolate, and watching the coverage of the nationwide protest. This eventually progressed to watching American music videos from the 90s, which resulted in lots of giggles and us trying to spell “blood” with our hands (he started it with “westside”). It should come as no surprise that I continued to fake little reactions to the TV, occasionally adding a laugh, as I let myself drift off to sleep. 

Finally this morning we had relief from the 95 degree heat, so much that I hardly even broke a sweat as he walked me home. Stopped at a cross walk, I asked him if he thought we would see each other again.  Once he translated what I was saying, he responded with, “of course, when you return to Argentina.” Talk about bittersweet, considering thats at least seven months away.

Trying to put it out of my mind, we walked hand in hand, smiling as we tried to avoid the throngs of people crowding the sidewalks. Realizing my doorman was actually at the door for once, I asked the boy if he wanted to come in to say goodbye.  He replied, “claro (clearly)” but didn’t know where he was and accidentally passed the building, forcing me to grab his (huge) bicep and guide him inside, while the doorman watched, chuckling, obviously putting two and two together. 

Stepping inside the granite foyer of my building, I leaned against the wall and we just stared at each other, both not knowing what to do.  How do you say goodbye? So we tried our best, as he rubbed my back and assured me we would see each other again, and that we would talk.  Forcing myself to pull away, I told him “haste luego” and turned to go, without looking back.  As I waited for the elevator, I heard him tell the doorman “chau” and go on his way.  A weird sensation consumed me, and as I entered the mirrored elevator, I noticed my eyes looked a little glassy.  Surprised, I refused to allow myself to feel sad, and put the impending tears away for some other time. 

As any soon-to-be-lonely girl would, I returned to my apartment and served myself a heaping spoonful of Dulce de Leche and the fruit salad I made yesterday while waiting for him to pick me up. Sitting in the living room, as the rain begins to fall and cool air once again fills the apartment, I know everything is in it’s place. I knew the goodbyes would eventually arrive, even when I arrived here four months ago, and underestimated how hard they would be. But I wouldn’t take it back for the world.  I am so glad to have met him, and spent two of my months here with such an interesting person.  I know going home will be hard, in many ways, and I imagine myself laying on my real, squishy, pillow top mattress, wishing he could be there with me on the days when I feel alone. You might be wondering if we were in love, and I don’t think we were, but we were something where we shared our secrets and were wholly …together. 

The scary part about saying goodbye is that, as we all know, finding someone who fits that place in your life can be quite difficult.  As I’ve realized before, these people are not gone when we leave them, they are simply in another life, cohabiting with other people in other places, but always remembered in the mind, and always out there if you need to go find them again. 

And with that, I will remember this guy forever, and maybe even see him again if the universe wills it. But if not, I will be able to look back on this and know that he meant something to me, and in this moment, made me so happy. In truth, who knows what life has in store for us?

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