The Rubicon

Well, it's done.

As of yesterday afternoon, I have a (non-refundable) one-way ticket to Hawai`i. Seat 20C on Hawai`ian Airlines flight 3 from Los Angeles to Honolulu, departing 10:40 AM on July 3, 2012, is my seat.

I've crossed the Rubicon.

And you know... I feel okay.

I thought I'd feel some portentous Wagnerian dread—almost expected fat orchestral minor chords as an underscore in the soundtrack of my life—but really? Not so much. There's a little anxiety—set a countdown timer which immediately told me I have 6 weeks and 5 days to go, and that creates a little pressure—but when I woke up this morning, I felt little different than yesterday.

In some ways, in fact, I feel better.

There will be no more shilly-shallying around, no more second-guessing things. I've made my decision and committed treasure to it and that's that. With a definite date and a plane to catch, I must do each day what that day demands and live in the now, savoring and treasuring the good that is this chapter of my life. Too soon (and not soon enough) I will turn the page.

If you catch me paying too much attention to the next chapter at the expense of this one, call me on it. It will happen, but I don't mean it to and I don't want it to. I'm not gone yet ("I'm not dead yet!"), and what I have here and now is important. The people who are part of my life here and now matter deeply; I'll never be able to adequately articulate how deeply you matter to me.

Never believe, no matter how excited I seem for what's to come, that I don't know regret for the inevitable change in our relationships. Never believe that I don't know what this change costs me and you. I am the man I am now—I am able to take this step now—because I knew you.

I find myself tearing up just thinking about it.

What I'm feeling reminds me of the lyrics of the song "For Good," from the Broadway musical Wicked:

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you.

I don't seek out people for what they can do for me, but I cannot deny that you (and you know who you are, don't you?) have had a profound positive influence on who I've become. "Who can say if I've been changed for the better?  |  But because I knew you  |  I have been changed for good."

As I count the cost of this radical move—and I count it every day—I pray that somehow, some way, I will find all you who are so dear to me in the next chapter of this book. I pray, too, that I have been (and will continue to be) a blessing in your life. More than praying, I trust that it is and will be so. I don't think you're done changing me.

I hope you aren't done changing me.

I have been changed for good.