“See you when I see you, another time some other place.”
I hate goodbyes. I’m not good at them. I cry. When I cry, my eyes get red and my nose runs. I’m usually pretty cute, but when I cry, I am a hot mess.
Maybe that’s why Coach told me goodbye via email. From his truck. After he’d packed up and headed out to Colorado.
Maybe he just knew how bad it would be if he said goodbye in person, just weeks after reconnecting. Psychic intuition. Keen judge of character.
Or maybe his Midwestern stoic sensibilities dictated the appropriate way to say goodbye.
Hey, my job here ended.
They asked me to take the position in Colorado Springs.
The same position I asked for two years ago before they sent me to Savannah.
Already on the road. Too late. Too far. For a proper goodbye.
I love country music. It’s like they write the lyrics just for me. Like they put my life to music and then sing it for the world to hear.
Let’s don’t say goodbye. I hate the way it sounds.
Jason Aldean just didn’t account for the fact that you can send the goodbye in a text. Which has no sound unless you’re lucky enough to have Siri reading them to you.
And I guess, “Let’s don’t write goodbye. I hate the way it reads,” wouldn’t have the same ring to it, would it?
Maybe he was afraid I’d say it. I love you. Don’t go. Choose me.
I wouldn’t, though.
Colorado Springs means his boys, who do and should mean more to him than any woman. No matter how cute, smart, sexy and funny she may be. No matter how much he’d missed her.
I know, you see.
Because she is me.
It’s been over a month, and he still texts on occasion. Or emails. Even one out-of-the-blue phone call.
Which doesn’t stop me from dating. Doesn’t stop me from looking. Waiting. Wondering. Is there someone out there who will? Love me? Choose me?
And as for Coach? I reckon I’ll see him when I see him, another time another place.
Question: Have you ever listened to a song and felt like the songwriter was writing it just for you? Which song was it?