Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Done @ Work

“I guess he’s Yertle 2,” the woman said across the aisle from me on the bus. The driver asked what she had when she climbed aboard and I glanced at her hand to see what I assumed was a container of salad.

“Baby turtle,” she told him and I glanced across the seat with greater curiosity and grinned at the tiny creature in a tiny pool of water and a few leaves. It reminded me of the habitats in jars we used to make for lightning bugs before setting them free. “He was on the road and I thought he’d get run over. So I picked him up to drive him to the pond, but he got away and was lost in my car. I finally found him when I got here and decided to bring him inside so he didn’t get too hot in the car. I had a turtle named Yertle when I was little, so I guess he’s Yertle 2.”

“He’s very cute,” I told her, peering through the plastic of her tupperware at the little guy. She smiled at me and nodded, moving the container closer so I could more easily admire him. I was on my way back from parking my car, having picked up a few friends from work for a final lunch before leaving on my last day. Ken carried the last box for me, so all that was left was to return keys and my ID, say good-byes and retrieve the violet.

I moved toward my office feeling a little sad. The southern people are rather dear. I have enjoyed living here, I thought, and handed in my keys, thanking one secretary for her best wishes. I glanced at my desk and grabbed a paper towel to remove the last bits of dust. Someone will soon sit here, I thought. Katie 2. (As a note, I do know her name and fully understand she’s not really replacing me. She’ll be working on her own projects and is very well qualified to do some interesting work.) All that’s left is for me to leave and her to arrive.

“I’m all packed up,” I told Boss and he turned from his computer and rose from his chair. I returned his hug and blinked up at him when I stepped back and adjusted the straps of my purse on my shoulder.

“Well,” he said, “we love you. And we appreciate you being here with us for the past few years.”

“I love you back,” I said quietly. “And thank you for having me here. I’ll miss you,” I whispered, clinging to my composure. He assured me that they’d miss me too and patted my shoulder as I waved to his secretary and moved out the door. I had enough time to feel proud that I kept it together before Jill rounded the corner and stopped in front of me.

“It’s time for me to go,” I told her helplessly, wrapping my fingers tightly around the edge of my bag. I felt her tears where my shirt pulled away from my neck and patted her back gently. “I’ll be back,” I said encouragingly, feeling my eyes start to leak. “My stuff is still in my house – it’s finally almost clean though! And Industry will pay for 3 trips back here if need be. So I’ll see you again. Please don’t be sad.”

“I love you,” she said firmly. “You take good care of yourself. We’ll have lunch when you get back and I want to hear how happy you are.”

“Promise,” I assured her and pressed a kiss to her cheek and told her to take care and be happy too.

“Jill made me cry again,” I told Ken, having seen him after Jill moved down the hall and he grinned and tugged me against his side. I leaned my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his back as we walked toward the office. I nodded when he thanked me for the clock I brought for him. Then I clung for a moment – pausing for a moment to appreciate that he’s quite built (I apparently wasn’t that sad) – and waved when he headed to a different lab. I hugged Marlie, thanked her for buying lunch for all of us, and smoothed the shirt on her shoulder.

“You do great work,” I told her, meaning it as a compliment as well as an order. She nodded and smiled, asked me to send email and thanked me for all my help. I shook my head at her gratitude - I've not been that useful to her - and promised to keep in touch before moving toward the desk and picking up the violet – the final item I had to take.

I climbed the steps to the bus again, the plant clutched in both hands, and shielded my eyes with sunglasses. I had to reach behind the lenses to dab at a few tears. It’s time to go – I know that and I’m mostly ready. The house went on the market this morning, Friend and I have cleaned to the point of exhaustion and I’m set to drive north tomorrow. So while Katie 2 takes over here, I have other plans in a different place.

I’m actually excited about checking into the hotel – not having to clean or pack or deal with the logistics of moving for a little while. (I’m So Tired. And Sore.) I’m looking forward to starting at work – meeting people and having meetings and getting settled. I want to look at houses – get excited about moving in rather than aching over moving out.

But there’s still a farewell to Friend – a moment I dread with every fiber of my being because I love her and hate the thought of not seeing her all the time – and a few last tasks to handle. Then I can huddle into my shell like little Yertle, recover from this week and start the next.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Please imitate Yertle2. Yertle is a bit too dead to my taste.

The thought that, when I leave here, I'll get to hug all the quite built guys in my lab (minus the one who will almost certainly graduate before me ‒ but maybe I'll get a hug when he leaves) to compensate for the unavoidable sadness made me laugh. Most of my lab mates are rather cute ;-)

I know it's hard but on the other hand it's good to know you will be missed. You're tired, sad, and sore, so it's normal you have a hard time appreciating all the new prospects before you. Hang on there!

post-doc said...

Excellent point - if one is to imitate a turtle, said creature should at least be alive.

Having left grad school with a 'you people suck and I don't like you so much' attitude, I will say this is much better. I'd rather be sad than bitter. And I very much hope that after I get some rest, I become peppy again, lest some "helpful" commenter start renaming my blog something silly.

Anonymous said...

Was the turtle crying, too? Maudlin Revisions!!!!

LOLZ!

post-doc said...

Yes. Yertle 2 was weeping. While wearing a tiny beanie that said "PhysioProf? Eh."

Psych Post Doc said...

The amount of empathy I feel when reading your last few posts makes me think I have a little PTSD from leaving grad school town last year.

I'm going back this weekend and I'm thrilled to see everyone. I think you'll have this too when you return to post doc town.

Safe travels and enjoy the hotel living for as long as you can.

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