Contact

The absolute worst scene in Jodie Foster’s Contact, one that has stayed with me for countless years even though I only saw the movie once, was the scene on the beach with her father. She’s actually talking to an alien, but rather than scare her by appearing in its own form, it takes on the shape and sound of her father to put her at ease. But all I could think when I watched it was that it was so cruel because she knew she had this limited time with the alien/father, and then she’d have to leave, and she was aware of this the whole time she was with him.

Senior year is like living that scene of Contact every day.

I want to enjoy the time. I can often set the idea of limited time out of my head and enjoy the time. We lounge on the bed, talking about nothing. ChickieNob and I exercise and listen to audiobooks. The Wolvog and I critique video games. We all have dinner together every night, and everyone lingers at the table.

But then, the reminder that this limited time will all come to a halt in August. They will go live at a college. We will continue to live here. My heart starts pounding as I think about this, and I often have to escape the room to cry. Each time, I think about that scene, about being in a place you want to be, with the people you want to be with, and realizing that it’s all limited. It all comes to an end.

This transition has been hard for me; it has been building for years and has become an enormous hole in my heart this last year. Thank you for reading it and abiding with me.