Wrote Your Name in Wet Cement

We did our best to keep it a secret, but now it's official. The cat is out of the bag, running rampant around the quiet north Idaho havens that we once called home and digging in the dirt near the graves of everything we left behind.

Last Friday Joel narrowly escaped an expensive catastrophe and successfully boarded the vessel that would jettison him permanently from the tendrils of our odyssey. In the wake of his absence I find it necessary to place his departure in proper context and explain exactly what it means.

It means I can have the bottom bunk now.

It means I have to pay 40 more euros of rent each month.

It means Glenn has one less person to steal socks from.

It means my wardrobe will become significantly filthier as I have yet to learn how to operate our washing machine, always having been content with being blindly led by Joel's domestic mastery, conveniently washing clothes whenever he did.

It means the dishes may never be clean again.

It means I have to explain to concerned kindergartners that even though yes-Teacher Joel is your friend, no he is not coming back.

The truth is that it couldn't have been anyone other than Joel to go home first. That is not a slanderous claim, what I am trying to say is that he was the most balanced of the fraction of The Crew hosted by these foreign lands. The closest we had to a figurehead, the anchor that kept us from drifting too far from reality, the megaphone of reason that always made sure we got on the right train at the right time. And now he is gone.

What this means to me above all else is that if Joel can make it out alive then there is hope for the rest. As pretentious as I know it may sound (along with the entirety of this post) Joel's return represents the possibility for the rest of us to conquer the feelings burrowed beneath the skin that drove us out of the homeland in the first place. It is a promise that we may someday contentedly climb down the steps and drag our feet to the next phase of life. This is not an admission that any of us are ready to resign to a normal life. We are still thirsty, but at some point this well will dry up. When that day comes we too will be reunited with the rest of our loved ones back "home".

I miss you Joel, but as we both know our adventures together are far from over. Eventually I too will drift from this continent and together we will paint frenzy across the Land of the Brave. Same goes for everyone else I love in that country.

Sorry Joel, but I had to use this picture