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<\/p>\nDear Packing, I know people aren’t supposed to like packing, but there is something about fitting everything just so into a box that is immensely satisfying to me. I guess it’s like solving a puzzle, which is one of the best Sunday evening activities (I know, I’m 85). It sure makes this whole moving process a lot easier, all except the books. I started packing my books three times before I could leave them in the box. I’m just gonna miss them so much!<\/p>\n
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Dear Office, last year I worked in a creaky double wide with holes in the floor and peeling paint, so to get my own luxurious office with large windows on the top floor of a bank felt incredibly posh. I filled you with a jungle of plants and a carefully curated secret snack drawer, and I loved it. Last week I had to move out in prep for the new work arrangements after I leave this job, and now I’m spending my last weeks here roaming the halls and reflecting on all your good qualities, especially since I expect a little gray cubicle at my next job. It was a good year, drinking coffee and eating Swiss Rolls on the sly and doing data entry within your walls.<\/p>\n
Dear Lists of Late Calls, I won’t miss you. That’s all.<\/p>\n
Dear Time, how you manage to move both excruciatingly slowly and at the same time at the speed of light is just beyond me. I waited what felt like agonizing months and years while trying to finalize my new job, and now with my move looming over me, suddenly time is dripping through my fingers like water. But even while the clock’s hands whirl ruthlessly, my closing days at work still drag as I wait for 5 PM. Time, you are weird.<\/p>\n
Dear Lasts, you are not my favorite thing. The last dance social, my last small group meeting, my last clinic evening, my last family gathering, all these are hurrying by and my emotions aren’t sure how to keep up. I think it’s time for some exciting firsts now to balance things out a bit.<\/p>\n
Dear Emotions, speaking of which… wow. Just wow. Emotionally I feel something like I’d imagine a woman would feel at 10 months pregnant with twins. It’s pretty crazy. I think my roommate deserves a public shout out for not tearing her hair out or kicking me out early or something as she puts up with me these last two months.<\/p>\n
Dear Babies, please don’t forget that I am your favorite tia when I leave. And don’t outgrow your amazing chubby baby cheeks too fast, because man I’ll miss them.<\/p>\n
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Dear Worship Team, it’s been an honor and a pleasure to serve with you. Getting up early every Sunday isn’t my favorite<\/em> thing, but the camaraderie and great puns and connection I have with you all is worth it. While I look forward to actually getting to experience worship services from the audience for a while, I’ll miss the stretching (well, some of the stretching) you’ve made me do, and the glowing feeling of just nailing a song we weren’t at all sure we could do. One of my favorite things about you is that brief little huddle we often do at the end of our session, that collective “Whew, we made it one more time.”<\/p>\n Dear Dance Teacher, spending the last year and a half learning to salsa is literally one of the most fun things I have ever done. I have dreamed of being able to dance for years, but it was one of those “way out there” dreams that didn’t seem like it would happen; I mean, how could it? But then I saw the sign outside your studio and signed up on a whim, and now your patient instruction has turned me from the clumsiest, jerkiest, terrible white-girl-dancer to someone who can actually (mostly) keep up with the swirling, flowing movements on your dance floor. It’s exhilarating. You’ve changed my life, and I am grateful.<\/p>\n Dear Mocksville, your redneck charm has wormed its way into my heart and no matter where I live, I will always think fondly of long, leisurely walks through your evening light after a good burger across the street, and probably when I hear a loud, jacked-up truck making a testosterone filled roar, I’ll have to smile a little and think of you.<\/p>\n Dear New York, when I visited you in the past, I would sense an unmistakable feeling of coming home when I first saw your skyline. And now that will be reality. I can’t wait.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Dear Packing, I know people aren’t supposed to like packing, but there is something about fitting everything just so into a box that is immensely satisfying to me. I guess it’s like solving a puzzle, which is one of the best Sunday evening activities (I know, I’m 85). It sure makes this whole moving process a lot easier, all except the books. I started packing my books three times before I could leave them in the box. I’m just gonna…<\/p>\n