My international fabric collection is off the wall. The comics that I keep around to encourage others and the poems that encourage me are packed safely in the car. The walls have returned to their natural dullness. I’ve taken all of my personal documents off the computer, and hope to remove my passwords before I leave.
It’s a little crazy, this leaving stuff.
The area still smacks of me, though. The folders are multicolored, not plain, because I like color and it helps me think. The web browser window still opens on my left screen, perfectly lined up with my jabber windows and my iTunes mini bar. The files are still organized the way I did it. The highlighters are multi-colored and clickable, the way I like them. I’m leaving my To-Do box o’ joy, with the index cards that tell me what to do and how often it needs to be done. My handwriting is on the labels and the notes and the memos.
I won’t be forgotten here.
And I will miss it.
Like today. At my going-away party for the department, we talked about bird’s nest soup, frisbee golf, internet bandwidth, and why it’s not thundering yet. We took all the cookies back with us and they convinced me to take the flowers. On the way back, we watched Steve kick Adam’s small yellow ball like it was foot golf and laughed at ourselves. This is what I will miss–the zany-ness, the interesting-ness, the fact that the people I work with think outside the box, destroying it when they have to.
It hasn’t been the perfect job, but it’s been good. God knew what he was doing when he opened this up for me, and I trust he knows what he’s doing in moving me on. Bye, guys.