Bye, Baby

by Carola Lovering

I can only imagine the peace that must come from knowing exactly what you want out of life, even if it’s not a guarantee.

That’s just how friendships become in your thirties, I think as I head south. The love is still there, but the urgency for that constant companionship fades, replaced by something else—romantic partnerships, yes, but maybe we also just get tired.

The weight of real adulthood looms, not yet ours to carry. There’s a precious transience to this time, the bittersweet sense that it won’t always be this way. That it can’t.