I will be everywhere next week, and again during Christmas.

Please allow me to explain.

When I make friends, I form close ties. I’m not so good at being a casual friend. With a few rare exceptions, I’m either in or I’m out. When I’m in, I care a lot about the person. They’re in my heart and my thoughts, and it’s as though I carry a piece of myself around with them (yes, that’s what I mean, not vice-versa).

Now there are absolutely times in peoples lives when they need time and space (and not just Einstein). For whatever reason, they need to shun communication for a spell and, whether you have everything, a little, or nothing to do with it, you-the-friend feel the loss.

Intent isn’t even the issue. To get to the point alluded to in this post’s title: I feel the loss, the separation, and the lessening of myself whenever those distal parts of me, riding around in the hearts and bodies of friends, head their separate ways, exploding across the country, one piece to Chicago, another down the California coast, another to Phoenix, while I gain distance from even those who stay here, as I jet down to Los Angeles, and then Las Vegas (travelling first to ‘the angels’ and then to ‘the fertile valleys‘.) Back to the point, I often don’t feel quite like myself when I’m away.

Along the same lines, it’s extra-hard when people go away and don’t realize they have some of you in them. You don’t get visiting rights, and you can’t get it back. All you can do is try to grow a new piece of you to replace the old. Maybe this is how people grow when they travel. They leave bits behind, grow more to fill in the missing pieces, and return to find those pieces are still there, recombining to make an even bigger whole.

Or is that blood-doping. I always confuse the two.