Last day

Yesterday was my last day at work. Strange day. Non-stop rain. Floods everywhere. Main Street closed, so I had to take alternate routes for the nursery run. The day at work felt different, but there was nothing emotional about it. Just a constant sense of “I won’t have to do this any more.”

People have been asking me how I feel about leaving, and I’ve consistently given one answer: “Super-excited,” which seemed to surprise a few people. 

But how could I feel any other way? I’ve been ready to leave for so long that I have no desire to look back, only forward.

I’ve regularly found myself thinking and saying to myself, “I don’t care,” when people raised work matters with me over the last few months—a sure sign that I needed to leave. 

And the main emotion I’ve experienced since arranging to leave three months ago has been a sense of lightness—a weight lifted. I guess it’s similar to how prisoners must feel when they know their sentence is coming to an end—a feeling of freedom and lightness and possibilities. 

Who wouldn’t be excited about that?

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