It is raining in Atlanta. It is late January, almost February. It is a warm, nostalgic rain with a blanket of grey pushing an urge to cozy back into bed. I am packing almost packed. The best and worst of my lovely possessions are being given away, almost gone.
I announced my resignation to my student’s yesterday. I tried to constrict the mile-wide smile from attacking my face as I said the words, “ I have accepted a position over –seas”. I then announced my successor and the students clapped and it was all over. They came up to me afterwards with their smiles and questions and well wishes. It was nice.
Wrapping up my life here has been a more difficult thing than one would think. A more difficult thing than I would have thought. I am not just talking about magazine subscriptions, of which I have almost all forwarded already. I mean the good-byes. I mean the sad disconnection from my support network.
As I am writing this, the wind outside has gone from a light trickle to a raging soulful, windy rain. It is knocking over objects on my porch and threatening to collapse the elder trees in the yard. And then it is gone again. This storm is reflecting the pattern of my emotions at this point. I go from a calm serenity to excited and happy to a raging, destructive, out of control fear and panic. And then it passes again and the cool air resumes itself where it should be on a late January day.
And I am off to continue to box the past two years of my life, donate it to people who need it and then start over again.