The Homes and the Heros

This is Home:

"I love you."  A hug.  "I love you too."

Walking into a coffee shop, and five beautiful-nerdy-writer's faces all light up, and I know my face is all light up too.

Walking into a room full of actors, "WHAT'S UP BROTHER!!  SO PUMPED FOR TODAY!!  MY GRANDMA GAVE ME A MONSTER ENERGY DRINK!  I'M FIRED UP!  YOU'RE THE MAN!"

Five of us gather in a circle, arms around each other.  We pray.  "God, thank you for my family."

Back stage, I'm in the dark.  A hint of stage light peers through the cracks in the curtain.  The music starts.  The audience goes silent.  Please may I never have to leave...

Home never seems to last, does it?  Home, for me, goes right along side goodbyes.

Ecuador.  6 year old girl I played with all day, runs up to me before I get on the buss to leave.  She asks me something.  I pull a translator aside and I ask her repeat it.  Translator: "She's wondering when you're coming back."
All I can do is hug her tight, before getting on the buss.

Saying goodbye to Aslan, after our last performance.  I can't find anything to say, he's quite composed, and says the perfect goodbye, but I can't.  I don't want to cry.  So I don't say anything.  I want to tell him thank you for being such a real human.  Thank you for being one of my hero's.  I wonder if this is just a fragment of what it'll be like when I hug Jesus.

I haven't thought about it much, but I've had a lot of heros.  My red headed Gandalf, my hero at work last year.  I wish I could tell him.  I told him I wanted to be him when I grew up, maybe that's enough.  It doesn't feel like enough.

I find Mrs. S.  The wife of Mr. S, who started One Year Adventure Novel, and the Summer Work Shops, my week long NeverLand for the last four years.  Everyone wants to talk to her, to tell her goodbye.  The crowed clears, now is my chance, I give her a hug.  Choke up.  And can say absolutely nothing.

Almost everyone else has left the ice cream place, and I ask my director why she isn't directing the next plays.  I wonder when she's coming back.  She finally tells me she's not coming back.  She's moving away.  On seeing my crest fallen expression, she hugs me, but I cut the hug short, and go walk in circles, avoiding hugs for the rest of the day.  I don't want to break down again.  Not while everyone else is happy.
Cast party.
Not only do they break the news to all the other cast members, but they announce some others are also leaving, some people very precious to my soul. 
I break down.  I look around.  Everyone else is crying too.  At least this time, when I hug my dear mentors goodbye, I can squeak out a "Thank you."

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.
-Dr. Seuss