In my most vulnerable moments (intoxicated, 3am, on an airplane, etc.), I remember all of my “love you”s; each person I’ve held tenderly in my heart and body; each friend I’ve shared late nights and soul secrets with. Do they know that they still hold a piece of me, that I still hold a piece of them? Do they know that the hum of a song, or the smell of backwoods, or the words on a page conjure their being in my mind? Do they know how often I think of them, how often I jog my mind back a few months or years to our casual and frequent visits? Our traditions? What comes of these faded soul ties; do I fumble with the frays and let go? Do I memorialize them in some kind of journal, a photo, an occasional phone call? How do I say goodbye to all of my ”love you”s?