The return home from Chicago brought with it both the comfort of familiar surroundings
and the challenge of translating their Chicago connection into everyday life. As the plane
descended through autumn clouds toward their city’s airport, Eleanor found herself
contemplating this transition—from the concentrated experience of travel, with its natural
opportunities for togetherness, to the more diffuse rhythms of regular routines, with their
established patterns and separate trajectories.
Martin seemed to be thinking along similar lines, for as they waited for their luggage at the
carousel, he said, “I was wondering if you might like to have dinner this weekend. Saturday,
perhaps? It would give us both a few days to catch up on work and correspondence after
being away.”
“Saturday would be perfect,” Eleanor agreed, appreciating both the invitation and the
space it allowed for reentry into their individual lives. “My place? I could cook.”
“I’d like that,” Martin nodded. “Shall I bring wine?”
This simple exchange set the pattern for the weeks that followed—a deliberate, mutual
creation of connection points that respected their separate lives while nurturing their
evolving relationship. They established certain rhythms: dinner together every Saturday,
alternating between their homes; occasional weekday lunches when their schedules
aligned; Sunday morning walks in different parts of the city, exploring neighborhoods and
parks with the leisurely pace of people who had nowhere particular to be.
Between these planned encounters, they maintained their professional obligations and
individual routines. Eleanor worked on a scholarly article about her evolving taxonomy,
incorporating insights from the Chicago seminar and developing the concept of
transformative farewells in greater theoretical depth. Martin prepared for the upcoming semester, designed new courses, and continued his research on literary representations
of illness and recovery.
Their communication during these separate activities found its own natural cadence—text
messages sharing small observations or articles of mutual interest, brief phone calls to
confirm plans or check in after significant events, occasional emails with more substantive
thoughts about ideas they were exploring in their respective work.
It was during one such email exchange, three weeks after their return from Chicago, that
Martin raised a possibility that caught Eleanor’s attention. Responding to her reflections on
how to reorganize her collection to reflect her evolving taxonomy, he wrote:
I’ve been thinking about what you said regarding the need for a new organizational
framework that acknowledges the transformative rather than terminal nature of certain
farewells. It occurs to me that there might be value in considering how our separate
archives might inform each other—your collection of goodbyes and my documentation of
unsent communications. Together, they create a more complete picture of separation and
connection than either does alone. Would you be interested in exploring this intersection
more deliberately? Perhaps we could dedicate some time to examining specific artifacts
from both collections side by side, looking for patterns and insights that might emerge from
their juxtaposition.
The suggestion intrigued Eleanor both professionally and personally. The idea of bringing
their separate archives into conversation with each other, of creating a deliberate
intersection between their individual collections, seemed to mirror the careful integration
they were cultivating in their relationship—a thoughtful bridging of distinct territories, a
mindful creation of shared space that honored separation while exploring connection.
She replied that evening:
Your suggestion is compelling. I’ve been considering how to restructure the collection
room to reflect the evolving taxonomy, and the idea of creating a deliberate dialogue between our archives offers an interesting framework for that reorganization. Perhaps we
could begin with the river stones, since they already exist as parallel artifacts in both
collections, documenting the same relationship from different perspectives. Would you be
free this Sunday to visit my collection room with this purpose in mind? We could examine
the stones together and discuss possible approaches to this archive intersection.
Martin’s response came the next morning, expressing enthusiasm for the proposal and
confirming Sunday’s visit. This email exchange exemplified the tone of their
reconnection—thoughtful, deliberate, intellectually engaged, with clear communication
about expectations and boundaries.
Sunday arrived with gentle autumn rain, the kind that creates a natural inclination toward
indoor activities and contemplative conversation. Eleanor spent the morning preparing for
Martin’s visit, not merely tidying her already orderly home but reviewing her notes on the
evolving taxonomy, considering which artifacts might best illustrate the concept of
transformative farewells, and reflecting on how her collection might be reorganized to
reflect this new understanding.
When Martin arrived at eleven, bringing freshly baked croissants from the French bakery
near his apartment and a thermos of coffee to complement Eleanor’s tea, they settled first
in her kitchen for a light breakfast. Their conversation moved easily between personal
updates about their week and more theoretical discussions about their respective work,
the boundary between professional and personal discourse increasingly fluid and
comfortable.
“I’ve been thinking about your email,” Eleanor said as they finished the croissants, “about
bringing our archives into conversation with each other. It’s a fascinating proposition from
both a scholarly and personal perspective.”
“I thought so too,” Martin agreed. “There’s something compelling about the symmetry of
our collections—both documenting aspects of separation and connection, both preserving artifacts of communication and its absence, but from different angles and with different
organizing principles.”
“And now both evolving beyond their original frameworks,” Eleanor added, seeing the
parallel. “My collection expanding beyond the taxonomy of endings, your archive moving
from private preservation to shared examination.”
Martin nodded, understanding the significance of this evolution. “Both becoming
something neither of us anticipated when we began collecting.”
They carried their tea and coffee upstairs to Eleanor’s collection room, where she unlocked
the door with the key she kept on a chain around her neck. The room welcomed them with
its characteristic hush, its atmosphere of careful preservation, its ordered arrangement of
display cases and archival drawers.
“I’ve been considering how to reorganize the space,” Eleanor explained as they entered, “to
reflect the evolving understanding of farewell as transition rather than conclusion. I think
the river stones might serve as a conceptual anchor for this restructuring.”
She led him to the alcove where the three stones now resided—the one from their original
relationship, the one Martin had found in Switzerland during his treatment, and the one he
had given her from his apartment during their reconnection. They were arranged
chronologically, telling the story of separation and return through their material presence.
“These already function as a bridge between our separate archives,” Eleanor observed.
“Each stone exists in both collections—preserved in mine as artifacts of farewell, in yours
as tokens of continuing connection despite separation.”
“Yes,” Martin agreed, studying the arrangement. “They’re the same objects viewed through
different taxonomical lenses, categorized according to different organizing principles.””Which makes them perfect starting points for this archival intersection we’re considering,”
Eleanor continued. “They embody the very concept we’re exploring—how the same
experience, the same material artifact, can represent both ending and continuation, both
separation and connection, depending on the framework through which it’s understood.”
They spent the next two hours engaged in a detailed examination of the river stones and
their potential significance for the reorganization of Eleanor’s collection. Martin shared
insights from his own archival approach, describing how he had documented the stones’
origins, tracked their movement through time and space, and integrated them into the
narrative of his experience.
Eleanor, in turn, explained her preservation techniques, her cataloguing methodology, and
her evolving thoughts about how these particular artifacts might serve as exemplars of the
transformative farewell category she was developing. Together, they explored how the
juxtaposition of their separate preservation approaches created a more complete
understanding of the objects’ significance, a richer context for their interpretation.
“What if,” Martin suggested as they sat at Eleanor’s cataloguing desk, stones arranged
before them, “we created a formal documentation of this intersection? A joint scholarly
paper exploring how parallel archives of the same relationship, maintained separately over
fifteen years, reveal complementary aspects of human connection across separation and
return?”
The idea appealed to Eleanor’s academic sensibilities, offering a framework for intellectual
collaboration that aligned with their personal reconnection. “That could be valuable,” she
agreed. “A case study in how different archival approaches illuminate different dimensions
of the same human experience.”
“And it would allow us to explore the theoretical implications of your evolving taxonomy
alongside my documentation methodology,” Martin added. “A genuine scholarly
collaboration growing from our separate but related work.”They began sketching an outline for such a paper, identifying key theoretical concepts,
potential artifact pairings beyond the river stones, and methodological questions to be
addressed. The work absorbed them completely, their thoughts building on each other in
that particular way that occurs when intellectual compatibility meets genuine mutual
interest.
It was nearly two o’clock when they finally paused, both hungry and ready for a break from
the intensive focus of their discussion. They moved downstairs to prepare a simple lunch—
soup and sandwiches assembled together in Eleanor’s kitchen, their movements around
each other comfortable and coordinated, like dancers who know the steps without
needing to count.
“This collaboration feels right,” Eleanor observed as they sat at her kitchen table, steam
rising from bowls of tomato soup accompanied by grilled cheese sandwiches. “Both
professionally stimulating and personally meaningful.”
“I agree,” Martin nodded. “It honors the separate work we’ve each done while creating
something new through their intersection. Rather like what we’re doing more broadly, I
suppose.”
Eleanor appreciated the parallel he drew, the recognition of how their intellectual
collaboration mirrored their personal reconnection. “Yes, exactly like that,” she
acknowledged. “Maintaining distinct identities while discovering the value of their
interaction.”
After lunch, they returned to the collection room with renewed energy, ready to explore
beyond the river stones to other potential pairings between their archives. Martin had
brought his laptop with digital records of his collection, allowing them to compare artifacts
without needing to physically transport items between their homes.
“What about this?” he suggested, showing Eleanor a photograph of a maple leaf preserved
in his archive. “I collected it during my first autumn in Switzerland, when I was still in treatment. The colors reminded me of the park near your old apartment, where we used to
walk on Sunday afternoons.”
Eleanor considered the image thoughtfully, then moved to one of her archival drawers. “I
have something similar,” she said, carefully removing a flat box. Inside, protected by acidfree tissue, was a pressed maple leaf. “From the last autumn before you disappeared. I
preserved it as part of Goodbye #137—one of the final artifacts from our relationship
before its apparent conclusion.”
They placed the digital image and the physical leaf side by side on her cataloguing desk—
two maple leaves from different continents, different years, preserved for different reasons
yet connected by the same relationship, the same shared memory, the same visual echo
across time and distance.
“This pairing illustrates something important,” Martin observed, studying the two artifacts.
“How separation creates parallel experiences, parallel preservations, that remain
connected despite physical distance and the passage of time.”
“Like separate branches of the same river,” Eleanor suggested, returning to their water
metaphor. “Diverging yet still part of the same system, the same flow.”
They continued in this vein throughout the afternoon, discovering more connections
between their archives—a piece of music Martin had recorded because it reminded him of
Eleanor, preserved in his collection alongside a concert program she had kept from the last
performance they attended together; a quote from a poem he had written in his unsent
letters, which she had independently noted in her farewell documentation; a particular
shade of blue that appeared in artifacts from both collections, each having preserved it
without knowing the other had done the same.
The accumulation of these connections—these echoes across separate archives, these
parallels in their independent preservation—created a picture of relationship that
transcended their fifteen-year separation. It suggested a continuity that had persisted despite absence, a connection that had remained vital even when direct communication
was severed.
“It’s remarkable,” Eleanor said as the afternoon light began to fade, necessitating the lamp
on her cataloguing desk. “All these years, we were documenting the same relationship
from opposite perspectives—you preserving connection across separation, me
cataloguing what I thought was a permanent ending. And yet, the artifacts reveal a
consistent thread, a continuous narrative that neither archive captures completely on its
own.”
“Like the proverbial elephant described by blind men,” Martin suggested. “Each archive
perceiving and preserving a different aspect of the same fundamental reality.”
“Yes,” Eleanor nodded, seeing the aptness of the comparison. “And only by bringing them
into conversation with each other do we begin to see the complete picture.”
As they continued working, Eleanor found herself increasingly drawn to the metaphorical
implications of their archival intersection—how it paralleled their personal reconnection,
how it illustrated the very concept of transformative farewell she was developing in her
taxonomy, how it embodied the principle of continued connection across apparent
separation.
The scholarly paper they were outlining was taking shape not just as an academic exercise
but as a meaningful documentation of their unique journey—a formal record of how two
separate collections, maintained across fifteen years of separation, had created a more
complete understanding when finally brought into dialogue with each other.
“I think we have the foundation for something significant here,” Martin said as they
reviewed their notes late in the afternoon. “Not just a paper on archival methodology, but a
case study in how separation can function as transformation rather than termination, how
connection can persist through changed form rather than conclude.””Exactly,” Eleanor agreed. “It’s a concrete illustration of the theoretical framework I’ve
been developing—farewell as transition rather than ending, as evolution rather than
conclusion.”
They decided to continue their work the following weekend, each taking specific sections
of the outline to develop further during the week. As they gathered their notes and prepared
to conclude the day’s collaboration, Eleanor found herself feeling a sense of integration
that was deeply satisfying—intellectual and emotional, professional and personal, all
aligned in this shared project that honored both their separate journeys and their renewed
connection.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked as they descended from the collection room.
“Nothing elaborate, but I could make pasta. We could continue our conversation in a more
relaxed setting.”
“I’d like that very much,” Martin replied.
They moved to the kitchen together, Eleanor gathering ingredients while Martin set the
table, their domestic collaboration as natural as their scholarly one had been. The
conversation shifted to lighter topics as they prepared the meal—a film Martin had seen
recently, a book Eleanor was reading, mutual acquaintances they had encountered during
the week.
By the time they sat down to eat—a simple but delicious pasta with roasted vegetables and
a crisp salad—the mood had transitioned from the focused intensity of their archival work
to a more relaxed, personal exchange. They opened a bottle of wine Martin had brought the
previous weekend, its rich flavor complementing the meal and enhancing the sense of
comfortable companionship that had developed between them.
“This has been a remarkable day,” Martin observed as they finished eating. “Both
intellectually stimulating and… something more.””Yes,” Eleanor agreed, understanding what he meant without needing elaboration.
“Something more indeed.”
They cleared the table together, loaded the dishwasher, and moved to Eleanor’s living
room with the remainder of their wine. As they settled onto her comfortable sofa, not
touching but close enough to create a sense of shared space, Eleanor found herself
contemplating the day’s discoveries—not just the scholarly insights about their parallel
archives, but the deeper understanding of how their separate journeys had remained
connected even through years of apparent separation.
“I’ve been thinking about what we found today,” she said after a comfortable silence. “All
those parallels between our collections, those echoes across time and distance. They
suggest something I hadn’t fully appreciated before.”
“What’s that?” Martin asked, his expression attentive.
“That perhaps we were never as separated as I believed,” Eleanor replied thoughtfully.
“That despite the physical absence, the lack of direct communication, some essential
connection remained active, continued to influence how we each moved through the
world, what we each preserved and valued.”
Martin nodded, his gaze reflective. “I think that’s true. I felt it most strongly in Switzerland,
during those long hikes in the mountains. There were moments when I would see
something—a particular quality of light, a certain configuration of trees against the sky—
and I would think, ‘Ellie would notice that. Ellie would appreciate that detail.’ As if you were
still part of my perceptual framework, still influencing how I saw the world.”
“I had similar experiences,” Eleanor admitted. “Moments when I would encounter
something—a passage in a book, a piece of music, a comment in a conversation—and I
would automatically consider your perspective, imagine your response, even though I
believed you were gone.”This acknowledgment of continued presence despite physical absence, of persisting
connection despite apparent ending, felt significant—a recognition of how their
relationship had defied the conventional understanding of separation that had informed
Eleanor’s collection from the beginning.
“Perhaps that’s what my evolving taxonomy is really trying to capture,” she mused. “Not
just that some goodbyes function as transitions rather than conclusions, but that certain
connections persist through transformation rather than termination—that they continue to
shape us, to influence how we experience the world, even when direct communication is
severed.”
“Like quantum entanglement,” Martin suggested. “Particles that remain connected
regardless of the distance between them, affecting each other instantaneously across any
separation.”
The metaphor resonated with Eleanor, offering a scientific parallel to the phenomenon they
were exploring. “Yes, exactly like that. A connection that transcends conventional
boundaries of space and time, that persists despite apparent separation.”
Their conversation continued in this vein, exploring the implications of their archival
discoveries for both Eleanor’s evolving taxonomy and their personal understanding of the
fifteen years they had spent apart. The wine was finished, the evening deepened, and still
they talked, engaged in that particular quality of exchange that occurs when intellectual
insight and emotional understanding align perfectly, when mind and heart discover the
same truth from different angles.
It was nearly midnight when Martin finally rose to leave, both of them acknowledging the
lateness of the hour and the work week that awaited them tomorrow. At the door, that
now-familiar moment of parting arrived, but with yet another quality than previous
goodbyes—a sense of continuation rather than conclusion, of temporary separation within
ongoing connection.”Thank you for today,” Martin said, his voice warm in the quiet hallway. “For opening your
collection to this intersection, for engaging so genuinely with this exploration.”
“Thank you for suggesting it,” Eleanor replied. “I think we’ve discovered something
valuable, both scholarly and… something more.”
They looked at each other for a moment, the understanding between them deepened by
the day’s shared discoveries. Then, with a gentle decisiveness that felt both natural and
significant, Eleanor stepped forward and kissed Martin—not on the cheek as before, but
softly on the lips, a brief but deliberate contact that acknowledged the evolving nature of
their reconnection.
“Goodnight, Martin,” she said as she drew back.
“Goodnight, Ellie,” he replied, his expression a complex blend of pleasure, understanding,
and patient acceptance of the carefully measured pace she was setting for their physical
reconnection.
When the door closed behind him, Eleanor leaned against it for a moment, experiencing
not anxiety or doubt but a quiet certainty about the rightness of that kiss, about the careful,
deliberate progression of their relationship from professional collaboration to personal
reconnection to this new territory they were beginning to explore together.
Moving through her home to prepare for bed, she found herself thinking about the day’s
archival discoveries, about the parallels and echoes they had found between their
separate collections. Those connections across time and distance, those preserved
moments that mirrored each other despite fifteen years of separation, seemed to confirm
what she was coming to understand about the nature of human relationship—that certain
bonds persist through transformation rather than termination, that some connections
remain active despite apparent ending, that farewell might sometimes be not a conclusion
but a different mode of continuation.For a collector of goodbyes, this understanding represented a significant evolution in
thinking, a fundamental reconsideration of what exactly she had been preserving all these
years. Yet as Eleanor drifted toward sleep, she found herself welcoming this theoretical
shift, this expansion of her taxonomical framework to accommodate the complex, fluid
nature of human connection across time and distance.
Like the river stones in her collection, like the parallel artifacts in their separate archives,
like the relationship that had persisted through fifteen years of apparent ending, Eleanor’s
understanding of farewell was being transformed—not replaced or negated, but expanded
and enriched, evolving to encompass a more complete picture of how humans navigate
the perpetual currents of separation and return that characterize all meaningful
connection.
And in that evolution, that willingness to reconsider fundamental assumptions and expand
beyond established categories, Eleanor was discovering a new kind of scholarly and
personal satisfaction—the particular pleasure of growth that comes not from abandoning
previous understanding but from incorporating it into a larger, more nuanced framework
that honors both what was and what is becoming.
Chapter 16: The Archives Combined
