Internship: The Long Goodbye

Korrin B.

August 8, 2010 - 7:35 PM

I thought I would save my farewell post for next week when I finish my internship on Friday. The problem with that is that with summer opportunities like this, you end up forced into a position where you basically have to start saying goodbye soon after hello. It's a melancholic summer as it brings with it adventures and memories, friendships and closeness, but is always tinted with the weight of goodbye. Summer is a set time in a life where for a moment you can free fall without having to think about what happens when you land on your feet again.

This summer, despite any effort to disconnect from the South in order to prevent the sting of goodbye, I found myself knees deep in love with it all. I could complain for days about the state of my bug bitten skin. I could lay in agony all day with the dreadful, humid heat. I could twiddle my thumbs for hours at the thought of my cubicle life. Yet despite all of these efforts, I will still find myself in love. I will still find myself with the early signs of a wilting heart, sensing the near distance that will soon come between me and what has been created here in Georgia this summer.

With my tendency to leave and spend significant amounts of time in different regions of the world, one might think that I would be used to this stage of the trip by now - the long goodbye. However, it appears that this is simply not the case. So, since I am aware that a proper goodbye could never truly fit into one lonely blog post, I suppose I will write a more poetic goodbye now and save the more summarized, factual goodbye for next week.

This summer I have spent many weekends seventy miles north of Atlanta in the peaceful, still farmlands of the Pine Chapel Community. This weekend when my friend and I left, I confronted the fact that I may not get to be up there again this summer. It made me sad, as I've grown to love its droning buzz of cicada insects, fresh foods straight off the vine, and heavy embracing heat. As we drove away into the night, I remembered the first time we had followed the lightning up there. I thought about swimming in the Coosawattee River with some of the other interns. I remembered the taste of blueberry picking under the shade of the bushes' tall branches. Before we got in the car tonight, I listened to the coyotes' songs through the night. I looked through the car's headlights for what has publicly become known this summer to be my favorite animal - the opossum. I soaked up the love that I had found there, so appreciative of everything it had been to me this summer.

Sometimes you leave a place and know that you will probably never come back, or perhaps won't be back for a long time and there is a certain peace with that type of travel. However, other times, the experience of a place sews itself into every one of your five senses. It wraps itself around the beats of your heart. It comes up through your bare feet with a sense of grounding and comfort that whispers the simple knowledge into your ear that, "Don't worry, you're still here and you will be here again."

My experience this summer has taught me about the true beauty of living simply. It has helped me to appreciate the small towns of America, so humble and tender. I have learned how to slow down, to not worry so much about the future and planning quite as much as I spend time to soak in moments.

I didn't expect to fall in love with the South, but I did. As the Pacific Northwest begins to call my name louder and louder, I am excited to return home again and put my feet into the Pacific Ocean, stand next to the Redwood trees, and breathe in the crisp, light air. I look forward to coming home, but I will leave a piece of my heart in Georgia as well and this can only mean one thing - I will be this way again soon.