The Missing

It usually takes about a week to make it happen. The texts are long, full of options:
What about Saturday, 3pm my time?
Thursday after 7?
I babysit then ... Wednesday??

I think about my schedule...I'll rush home from the gym, help mom with dinner, and get on the computer. No wait, maybe i'll get up early and talk in the AM because it's 9:30 her time and 6:30 my time. that could work, right? Can i get myself out of bed that early?? Probably not. Dang it. AH THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING WHY CAN'T WE HAVE A CONVERSATION WITHOUT A WEEK OF PLANNING?! I think to myself

And when I finally see her face I'm so happy. We talk about jobs and living with our siblings again or finding a new home in a big city. she says things that totally resonate with me and what I'm feeling and makes me laugh because of her unique and witty humor.

But when we hang up I feel a sense of loss. We only had an hour and in that time we didn't get to talk about the time last week when I read a section of a book that made me think of her. We didn't have time to stop by each other's apartments mid-day in our leggings on a friday afternoon, eagerly awaiting the weekend. We didn't have time to vent (usually that would be me) about school and ridiculously long essays to write and obnoxious people in the library flirting while I'm trying to study.

When I call a different country, Costa Rica, I usually pause for a minute "Should I do it? How bad is my Spanish today?" I open up my journal from abroad and find the number that I wrote on the front page: 506.
The international area code is 506. I press dial. And wait.

It rings and I get so nervous. There's an answer on the other line and I say "Hola, es Alisa" and then the conversation comes. They say my name like they always did, I talk with Papi about food and making coffee and they ask for me to come back.

We remember you, Alisa, he says. And a piece inside of me starts to ache.

And then I miss. And I remember. And I smile. And I feel sad and happy all at once.

I smile because it was good -- our time together. I smile because we can still be together across many thousands of miles. I smile because my Tica family says my name differently and it makes me feel like I'm there with them.

And I feel sad because I want to be drinking coffee with them in Costa Rica. I want to be laughing at Papi's jokes again and making silly Spanish mistakes. I want to be in Maryland or Massachusetts or wherever you are.... drinking wine on the floor of one of my best friend's bed room, talking about life and transitions and all these unknowns. I want to be laughing with them as we reminisce about freshman year 8am philosophy where we wrote notes to each other to stay awake and cursed over 8 page essays about "epistomology." I want to be sitting on the couch on the second floor of Tavilla again laughing so hard at that story you told me about when you were in Africa. I want to watch my papi's face when he laughs, I want to eat gallo pinto again.

I miss.

We miss because we love, right? We miss because we were loved by people and places -- and when we leave them, it hurts a little (and sometimes it hurts a lot). We miss, too, because we got to love them back. We were given the opportunity to love the people and places in front of us...the car rides to school when the sunlight perfectly hit the hills of Costa Rica, the runs through the woods on a snowy afternoon in Wenham, the conversations over lattes at Atomic Cafe, the laughter on a long walk home from Spanish class. And we continue to love...just this time from a greater distance.

So, right now, I'll miss and remember. And I'll be thankful for those gifts.