Lessons In Moving On

I come home from tour in the same state every time. Dry skin from the harsh soaps in the hotels and residences. Croaky voice from yelling loud enough for a group of forty to hear the instructions. Red lips from dehydration and the recycled air in the coach. Sore feet from seventeen hour days. Angry stomach from highway service center foodstuffs. On the verge of a cold, bloodshot-tired eyes, stiff-whiny muscles. Exhausted.

I told my kids on the coach tonight that the hardest part about being a Tour Manager is not the long days, the stress, organization, paperwork, or any one of the multitude of things that we do while on the road. The hardest part is saying Goodbye. I thought that getting on the coach with over forty new faces and saying, "Can I have your attention at the front please?" and then introducing myself would make me nervous (it did), but nothing makes me shake and sweat and breathe deeeep like mentally prepping for my farewell. Every time someone asks me about what I do, I tell them how great the job is, how wonderful I have it, how I'm lucky and can't complain. I think I actually found something that I don't like.

The first day is always a bit lukewarm - I'm still getting to know everyone, learning names and trying to figure out whether or not the teachers like me. But by the middle of the second day I really start to love my kids. And by the time I get close to a bunch of them, we all have to go home. There's always the kids at the back of the bus whose names you still can't figure out, but the ones up front latch on to you and after so many hours together, you want to hang out with them and go shopping and dance and do a facial and be in their pictures. I get to be their friend for a bit and afterwards they hug me and tell me they love me and want my e-mail so they can talk to me on MSN. I actually hold back some tears as I tell them, "Good luck with the rest of the year, and good luck in high school and everything after that...." I wish them the very best and I know that they'll be great.

Is it just me? Are my emotional strings too sticky and tangly? I'm like the Anti-Buddha, getting attached to every single thing just a bit too much and very easily. Over the last few days I watched My Kids interact with each other and answer trivia questions, and I thought to myself in the most uncondescending way possible that I was so proud of them, when really, I had nothing to do with any of it. Perhaps this job will be good for me (moreso than it already is) - it will teach me abrupt lessons in moving on, how to leave but cherish memories and how to continuously enjoy the temporary moments in life. Mm-mmm transitory fragments.
9:56 pm