#goodbyeprobablyforever

Tonight is my last night on this rig. 

I'm really going to miss these guys. It's weird how fast you become attached to people. I still have that problem- even though I know when I first meet them we aren't realistically going to be friends forever, I still end up wishing that we could be when it's time to leave.

We've bonded over the derrickman's bacon-wrapped pork loin, the driller's barbecue, and the company man's roast chicken and chorizo. (Veggies aren't bonding. Meat is bonding.) We've talked about work and fun and family. I've heard men share the sadness of not being able to start a family with their wife, or of not getting full custody of their children. We stand around the mud pits, sweating in the sun, challenging each other to modified spitting contests (biggest, furthest, most ripple-inducing) and sharing our dreams of new houses, new cars, new jobs. 

When you almost never leave the rig, it doesn't take long to grow close. We grow close because we need to. For two weeks (or more) we live out here without our family or friends. But people need family and friends, so we build that with each other. None of us expect to stay connected for long, but we connect for the time out of necessity. The relationships are definitely real, but not built to last.

I am sad to leave this bunch of friends, but I am elated to come home. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed. I can't wait to keep the same friends for more than two weeks. I can't wait to wear regular clothes. I can't wait for football on the weekends, sweaters and baking, consistent cell phone service and internet, coffee with dad in the morning, tea with mom in the evening, (we like to stay caffeinated in the Eben household) and seeing Phil!