Not everyone should leave

When a piece of your heart walks away

Meeting Alanya, is like witnessing a spring tornado. Totally unexpected. She didn’t meet you, she pulled you into her whirling essence. Grabbing and spinning, you couldn’t save yourself if you had wanted to.

I ran willingly towards the storm.

She must have liked the place, because she took the open bartender job that was offered.

As the weeks turned into months, I learned about her life, her body of work as an artist and teacher, some of her dreams, and the reality that she would soon move on.

But this truncated relationship, especially with someone interesting enough to fill up your life, was hard to accept. I would show up at the bar, see her and think, what a pleasure to be around someone like this.

Only to be reminded by my brain that it wouldn’t last much longer.

Craving a connection with her was something that everyone had, I’m sure of it. Her joy at being alive, surprise at the bad bar jokes, delight in participating in the lives of the ones on the other side of the bar.

Speaking from this side of the bar, nobody is surprised that a female bartender brings in a load of guys. And those guys buy drinks. I have my own favorite bartender, Tom, but we have a history that we built a friendship on. In the limited time before Alanya blows out of town, there isn’t enough time to build a friendship like that, and for that I am sad.

Orson Wells said:

We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.