leaving

WOW this is a weird feeling.

I've worked at this place for two years and two months, over three seasons of the Alternative Breaks program. Something like 500 people have traveled to other countries on this program while I've been running it, and many of them have found themselves changed in incredible ways. That's a damn good feeling.

Pretty much everyone has left for the weekend now, and my cubicle is bare and ready for the office supply pillaging that is sure to take place. I have to head out of here, lugging my multiple bags of office crap that I'm more than tempted to just chuck in the nearest trash can, because I really wish I weren't such a pack rat. I think I'm going to wrestle them into a cab back to Brooklyn, where I will throw them into my car and drive to Hartford, Connecticut. I fly from there to Normal, IL (aka The Homeland) early tomorrow morning. My body and brain may well fully shut down the minute my butt hits that plane seat, knowing this insane month is finally over. But I'm not there yet. I'm still here.

The phrase "mixed emotions" doesn't do any justice to what I'm feeling at this moment, but it comes closer than anything besides crying, and that's messy to do in HTML. The past couple hours have included a steady stream of goodbyes interrupting the last-minute forwarding and listing and sorting and piling for those who will pick up the tasks I'm leaving behind. I have done the best I could to leave things in an order that will allow for a fairly smooth transition, and yet I am sure there are things I've forgotten and left undone, and that is not a good feeling.

But the far worse feeling is that of leaving the people I've worked with here who have become some of the closest friends in my life, and the people to whom I've connected just lately and want so much more time to get to know.

Have you heard Rachel's Life Motto? Well, here's all the wisdom I've got, folks: Life is all about attitude and timing, and we generally have control over only one of those. (Hint: it's not timing.)

I'm fighting pretty hard for that control right now. And I'm looking at a beautiful hand-carved sculpture of friendship and support, a surprising and touching parting gift I received today, and I'm understanding that times of transition offer us a chance to learn and realize things about ourselves and our friendships that we otherwise might not.

Thank you, my friends.