Step One, Step Two, Step Three

Step One: allowing myself to grieve the impending loss. To look at eleven odd years- what has been, what hasn't been, what could have been.

I can hardly believe that one became two became seven became a whooping eleven.

Wow.

How now?

* * * *

Step Two: Packing up the dreams God planted.

I'm a chronic collector, have I ever, ahem, confessed that? Seriously, there's no beating me at this so don't even try.

I can dig up the Success Cards I received when I was about to sit my CPE.

And every other cute little note that someone, anyone, ever sent me. Perhaps I should stick almost in there, just in case. But really, every.

I was going through my stuff the other day and found an "I'm sorry I was late" note a friend sent me some eighteen years ago. Stand back and take a moment to absorb that.

And, and, and, when I was through reading it and reminiscing, I did not throw it away-I stashed it back right where I'd found it, certain that I would stumble upon it again, a few years from now, and it would make me smile. Again.

So. Packing up.

This afternoon, I decided I might as well get round to it now, to lighten my load at the end of the road.

So far, I've found fourteen half-used notebooks stroke journals semi-hidden away in different parts of the office. I was startled, once again, at some of the things I've thought and felt and written.

Sometimes, I can hardly recognise me.

Also, ohmygoodness, was that me?

Lots of knick-knacks and dodats: the joy of finding a scarf, exquisitely wrapped, brought by friends from faraway places that I'd forgotten about (how could I?); my The Kenya We Want Mug (aawww); random coins from most every place I've travelled to; and even, a packet of Sasini Tea (don't ask, I cannot tell).

It is an emotionally exhausting exercise. In every drawer there is another memory, waiting to be dusted out, contemplated, and packed away into a box-for now.

*******

Step Three: Praying for the discipline to finish well.

I do not want to huff and puff and blow this house down.

(Even when I want to, I don't want to, really.)

First, it's taken up a big chunk of the life of me. Second, I think there's a great deal that I've accomplished here that I can be proud of. Third, even if I cannot go where this place is going, even if I cannot stay, I think I owe it to myself to walk away with my head held high.