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For the past couple of weeks, I have found myself wavering –always late at night. I open the kitchen cabinet and pull out a block of chocolate and begin carving away at it with a knife, nibbling it bit by bit until it’s gone. Sometimes when it’s gone I get up and walk to Whole Foods to buy another one.
Where is this coming from? It’s not about a hunger for chocolate, that much I know. What’s clear is that it happens when I’m feeling tired and vulnerable. Which is a great deal, lately.
Many years ago, leaving Washington, DC for my move to California, I basically snuck out of town. No parties, no dinners, no farewells. Not even at work, since I was getting a promotion and being transferred. I can’t really recall a single goodbye.
Fast-forward to 2009 when my then-husband and I were preparing to leave California for the mid-west. There were a number of farewells — with WeightWatchers groups in particular. And though I was against it, a huge going-away party that my ex insisted on throwing at the tennis club. I found it depressing and heart-wrenching.
Again, leaving the mid-west, there was another farewell –this time a “fundraiser” at a piano bar. I was smart enough not to invite any of my own friends. It was much easier to do “goodbyes” with my ex’s colleagues and other folks I barely knew. We raised lots of money. I left early.
Now, once again and all too soon, I’m bidding adieu to folks. This time it’s my community in New York City that I’m leaving as I launch myself into my new life back in California. Older and wiser, I know I need to chart a middle-path. No parties, but I’m taking the opportunity at every occasion to acknowledge with friends and supporters that I’m leaving. Lots of hugs and fond remembrances. It’s been deeply moving. And terribly difficult.
Frequently I’m asked “Are you excited about the move?” And as I think of that block of chocolate, I reply, “Well, not exactly.”