Don't Kiss Your Lines Goodbye

Back in high school, I regularly participated in my school's theatre department. When I wasn't acting in a show, I was working behind the scenes.

The theatre teacher was one of those cliche over-the-top types; he had it hard for all things drama. He could quickly flip-flop between angry director and chummy actor. He was full of advice.

There is one piece of advice that teacher gave that still sticks with me: "Don't kiss your lines goodbye."

He'd say this backstage before the final showing of each play we did. He meant for us not to linger, not to take the time to revel in saying our lines for the final time. Lingering on the idea that this was it would have meant breaking from our task of the moment, to just do it.


Today marks one week until I take the drive across the country to move to North Carolina from Washington state, where I've lived my whole life. It means saying goodbye to the delicious veggie tacos from Dora's Deli, to the sweet little reading spot by the pond at Whitman College, to driving by the school where I fell in love for the first time, to the poppies under the bridge where I used to go sit with my dog.

Most of all, leaving Washington means saying goodbye to my mom, my sister, my father. It means saying goodbye to my boyfriend, for whom I never meant to fall, but for whom I fell anyway.


I find myself tempted to linger on these things. A few days ago, when my boyfriend and I were driving back to his place from out of town, he made the ordinary decision to grab my hand. It was probably a subconscious thing, really.

But it made me cry.

It made me cry because I gave into the temptation to kiss that feeling goodbye. Instead of living in the moment, I gave into the temptation of thinking about the fact that he's not going to grab my hand on a long drive again for a while.


I don't have the answers. I know what I should be doing -- I should be living in the moment. But sometimes I can't help but kiss my lines goodbye. And I don't know how to fix that.