It’s 1:23 am and for the first time in nearly ten years, I’m writing from an office that is not “my office,” a room in the house where my work and work equipment have lived since we arrived in Utah in 2011.
The feeling is a strange one. The desk is different. The position of the screens is different. The sound is different. The room also faces a different direction (east, rather than west) and somehow this also changes this considerably at some ineffable subconscious level.
The last office was the office in which I finished my doctorate, did my final teaching, became a marketing person and then marketing management, got divorced, spent countless hours with my kids. There were many naptimes, writing projects, tragic phone calls, and hours spent with (now dead) pets there. Some of the best things I ever thought I thought in there.
New room now.
Kids are getting older. One will be a tween in a moment. She carries a phone already. It’s been ten years since I last taught in New York. It’s been twenty years since I finished my undergraduate degree. It’s been thirty years since the first time I set foot on a college campus for class. That’s a long time, and it all passed in a flash.
This isn’t an original post, but that’s okay—it’s not really meant to be. It’s meant to be a bookmark and a kind of prayer. Whether that’s a prayer of thanksgiving, a prayer to ask for blessings, or a prayer to seek guidance… who knows.
I’ve never been much of one for schedules and calendars—one to plan my life out to the day, or even the month. The upside is that there is a certain amount of freedom (from multiple things) that results from not doing this.
The downside is that you don’t ever know what’s coming next, or when—you never celebrate your “this is the last time I’ll” moments, because you don’t know they’re the last time until you look back and say “Wow, that was the last time I… I had no idea then that…”
I don’t know whether it’s healthy or not to always move on without much in the way of ceremony or celebration of what one is leaving behind.
But that’s sort of how I do it. I don’t spent a lot of time on goodbyes, to circumstances, to things, or to people. I just don’t, even though sometimes I wish I had afterward, upon reflection.