To Go

a light essay on the language of leaving

We all know English is a bastard language but I say it is beautiful in its abundance. Like America itself, American English is made up of many different languages from many different peoples, meaning we have many different words and phrases to choose from.

Take the phrase “I have to go,” for example. You can also say I have to leave. I have to split. I have to bounce. I have to take off, to jet, to dip. To run, to bolt, to boogie.

If you want to be cool you can make like a tree and leave, or make like a banana and split, or make like a check and bounce. You may have to get on up out of here, or make like a baby and head out. You might tell everyone to take it easy, or, if you’re a bit of a badboy, take it sleazy.

You can say Have a good one, got to go, good seeing you. Laters, peace out, Bye, Felicia.

If you want to be more formal you can say, I must take my leave of you. I’m signing off now. I look forward to our next meeting.

Shakespeare, of course, said goodbye best:

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

— Romeo and Juliet, Act II, scene 2

“Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!”

— Hamlet, Act V, scene 2

“Give me now leave to leave thee.”

— Twelfth Night, Act II, scene 4

“Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Where’er it be, in heaven or in earth.”

— Henry VI Part III, Act II, scene 3

But Shakespeare was also great at telling people to leave:

“Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!”

— Hamlet, Act III, scene 4

“Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone.”

— Troilus and Cressida, Act IV, scene 2

Lots of leaving in literature: Charlotte in Charlotte’s Web, Old Yeller, when George tells Lennie about the farm again, just before he shoots him.

Jesus has the greatest goodbye when he said, “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age,” but “Do not let your hearts be troubled” and “My peace I give to you” are pretty good too.

If you’re a cowboy you might say you have to mosey, or hit the dusty trail, or you need to head back to the ponderosa. If you’re in elementary school you might say Later, Gator, or Afterwhile, Crocodile, and sometimes when we were cool in college we’d say Smell ya later or I’m Ghandi when we wanted to leave. We’d say I’m gondola or I’m gonderosa or I’m gonzo. Ta ta, toodle-oo, sayonara. Hasta la vista, see you when I see you, wouldn’t want to be you.

None of this is to be confused, of course, with having to go to the bathroom or the bano or the latrine or the restroom or the potty. Nothing to do with going #1 (or #2), nothing to do with taking a leak, nothing to do with going wee-wee.

In the Midwest you just slap your knees with both hands and say “Welp,” when you’re ready to leave, and everyone will know it’s time to head for the door. You don’t even have to say go, or goodbye, which is a shortened form of God be with you, and that’s all I wish when my daughters walk out the door, or Jenn is driving home or the phone rings late at night and I see a family member’s number on the screen.

God be with you, friends, whatever God you worship, and wherever you may go.

Take care. It was a pleasure speaking with you. I hope you have a wonderful week.

Adieu, au revoir, and goodbye.

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