The Last Time

Knowing that you're doing something for the last time is really sad.

Seeing someone that you know you're seeing for the last time is even more sad.

Most of the time, you don't know that what you're doing is the last time you'll do it. Or, you don't know that the conversation you're having with someone is the last time you'll ever speak to them. Or, you're somewhere and you don't think to think "This is the last time I'll ever be here."

That's sad too, but at least you get to be happy and normal during those last times.

Ignorance is bliss.

I am thinking about the last time I saw The Sandwich Who Shall Not Be Named and I am thinking "Man, if I had known that would be the last time things would have been so different." There are things that are huge parts of your life that just disappear without your having had a say.

I guess knowing things are going to disappear suggests a certain amount of power over a situation. That doesn't, however, make things easier.

Most of the last time things I am doing this week aren't enough to make me sad. This morning I thought "This is the last time I'll ever take a shower in The Loft!" and then thought "Huh. Interesting."

Last night I said "Wait! D! This is the last time we're ever going to be sleeping in The Loft together!" He had no response to its being the last time. I was like "But D, this is the location of the first time! This is where it all began! You were the first person I met in NY who set foot in The Loft! You were here riding Roommate's bike around the loft during my second week here! This is where you put up the post-it note on my wall that said 'Kiss D' after Bench Buddy's party! This is where you first said 'I love you!'" He then said "Huh. I guess it just hasn't hit me."

I have to admit that I don't have much sentimental attachment to The Loft. I always knew it was temporary. But I am attached to the little things that happened there, such as the previously mentioned post-it note. Things like RR coming down for the karaoke party, my entire family being able to stay with me at the same time, Roommate's Cat, D and I giggling and getting-to-know-each-other on the couch on New Year's Eve, M's suggestions for shelf systems, bitching to N and RR all night long while it snowed outside, LBF and I creeping around while an unwanted Canadian slept in my bed, cooking dinner with PW, talking to Sister all morning about how weird death is, wondering if DirectTV interfered with my cell phone reception, drinking wine in the early days with Roommate when New York was new and things were overwhelming.

Things are still overwhelming. I haven't settled in at all. The new apartment will be a good opportunity to feel settled and feel like myself. I haven't felt like myself since I moved here. This is most likely because there hasn't been time. Hopefully having a new apartment in the city and having time to myself will remind me of why I've chosen this.

Anyway, melodrama aside, I took the L to work this morning for the last time. No more L! Life is good. I basically skipped to the subway, waving to all of the places I'll miss but that can be visited. Ah, Asian/Organic supermarket with the sesame sticks, I will miss you but I will be back! Ah, adorable boutique with the fabulous clothes I cannot afford, you will torture me no more! Ah, Relish! We will meet again! Oh, Anytime, I wish you would deliver to Manhattan. Sigh.

So I walked down the stairs of the L and nearly burst into tears, because I'd forgotten about my favorite subway musicians! I listened and tried to hold it together. They are the cutest things ever - older white gentleman who wears a black winter hat and black jacket and plays violin and looks Italian but is probably Russian playing with an adorable little (Mexican?) man with a pot belly who plays classical guitar and who never stops smiling. They play together a few times a week at the Bedford Ave. stop and they are amazing. They love what they do and dance and nod as the riders walk by. I would pay all sorts of money to see them non-subway-style. They are happiness.

I wrote down their names. I wanted to buy their CDs to commemorate The Last Time but the train came and I didn't want to interrupt them.

I almost wish I hadn't seen them, because then I could think back to the last time I saw them and be nostalgic instead of dramatic.

Sigh.

Now I'm sad about potato knishes at Pita Power. When was my last one? I don't know!