we will always have paris

I used to think that the act of walking away from something was a sure sign of cowardice. Not enough love, I said, if love were the main factor. Not enough interest, I said, if the situation pertained to a job or career choices. All those final scenes in movies showing lone women boarding planes, walking away with other men, their images fading out or cut short -- these were women whom I immediately tagged as weak and unworthy of another chapter.

Tonight, while watching one such movie, I realized that it takes gumption to walk from Point A, a decidedly familiar and cozy place, to reach Point B, which is strange and cold and wrought with projected fears.

The trouble with movies is, no one ever sees the main characters after they board their departing trains; we haven't a clue whether they are happy or sad about the choices they've made or whether they will eventually return to the exact spot they've left. We are merely observers; we are not allowed to go any further.

A genius once wrote this famous line: We'll always have Paris. Meaning the movie continues in everyone's minds. It has to because intelligent movies do that. They make us realize that life allows us to devise our own repectable endings.

Here's an admission: many a time, I've prayed for enough courage to leave some things behind. Most cannot be named here. Baggage weighs you down after a while; harbors become prison fixtures, reminders that there is no such thing as a turning point where you are. So tonight, I'd like to say that I respect you for finding a nameable truth in your heart and you were faithful to this truth, despite everyone and everything that may have blocked your path. I still believe that it takes a lot for someone to stay. But you risk everything you are in leaving, one foot after another, out of a story you once knew by heart.