I bought another skirt from the cult known as LuLaRoe, the diabolical Latter-Day-Saints company that takes all my money on the regular. This skirt is purple, and dotted with images of parachutes, drifting from the clouds to the earth.
I bought it to support a friend’s business, to look cute, and because I kinda need that image in my life right now. I need a reminder to leap, to fall, and to trust.
One of the things they don’t tell you about life overseas is that there’s a lot of goodbyes. This summer was brutal. Families who were our constants—the ones who would make your kids smile, or make you laugh during school assemblies—aren’t here. It’s a mosquito bite right in the middle of your back. Sometimes you don’t feel it, but when you do, it’s all you can think about.
This happened three times in this summer, and now another dear family is sorting and packing and planning.
It’s easy to burrow into my blanket, jaded and despondent. To sit in my car instead of stepping into a crowd of strangers. To ignore those moments of connection.
A friend of mine from Crossfit, who has lived in Virginia, Hawaii, California, and now Spain listened to me, understanding. “It’s so hard,” she said. “But you know, we just keep loving.”
Yes we do. We keep loving. We leap, like those floating humans, trusting that our fall will be soft, and our hearts will be beating. We make plans, look people in the eye. Love again, and again and again.
Seguimos amando. That’s the translation. We keep loving. Earlier this summer, that friend and I, along with another friend. tattooed that phrase together. Mine’s on my rib, expanding and contracting with each breath. Close to my heart, always with me.
A reminder. A prayer. Because it’s what we do.