This has happened to me before.
The getting overtly attached to people and places.
Watching them inch away and stare helplessly.
And then doing it all over again.
In the past two years, TV series have sort of replaced my social life.
The characters have become friends – faces that I look forward to seeing everyday.
I laughed aloud at their silly pranks.
And sobbed quietly when they hurt and even secretly prayed for them to be okay.
Despite it all, I knew I could come home and there they would be.
To tell me yet another story.
Make me feel like I was right there in their lives; a quiet spectator.
Until the day that they weren’t.
Maybe a couple of months from now I will feel terribly silly for even writing this.
But this about today.
About what I feel now.
Having said goodbye to my friends for over eight seasons.
Thank you, House M.D. – it didn’t feel like fiction through most of it.
I will always think of you when I walk through the taupe corridors of a hospital.
And when I see a piano sitting by itself in the corner of a room.
I will always think of you when I walk through the taupe corridors of a hospital.
And when I see a piano sitting by itself in the corner of a room.
What a journey it has been.