Sweet, yet Bittersweet - Ready to Relax Beside the Fire

Photo Courtesy of Notebook Magazine

Today was my last day with the big law firm in the sky.  It was a bittersweet kind of day.  I said goodbye to many, "see you later" to others and cried crocodile tears, knowing that I will miss it terribly in some ways, but knowing that I won't miss the almost 3.5 hours per day I spent in my car 4 days a week for the last 22 years.  I won't miss filling up my gas tank to the tune of 2.5 tanks a week, nor will I miss parking and walking to the building, as I did on Wednesday after my umbrella blew inside out, and as I dropped my debit card underneath my car, all the while navigating a downpour with a cup of coffee, my purse and my work tote (it wasn't pretty, but I had to laugh and did manage to provide some smiles to my co-workers).  I won't miss reviewing the 300 emails I reviewed each day for content and urgency, I won't miss waiting for the elevator for what seemed like forever to take me to the 45th floor, nor will I miss looking out the window and seeing soldiers with guns in helicopters as I did on 9/11.  I won't miss the client billing I was responsible for, and I won't miss preparing expense reports.  I won't miss road rage, the wind that blows between the skyscrapers and often made me feel as though I was Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz during the Kansas tornado, nor will I miss trying to cross West Peachtree Street before all of the cars start drag racing at the green light.  I won't miss asking people for things 5 times and finally getting it on the 6th try, and I won't miss spending 9-10 bucks a day on lunch.  What I will miss is my place on the hallway where my best bud and I practically read each other's minds throughout the day, where my boss would come whipping around the corner, pulling her rolling work bag, her long hair bouncing slightly in her hair clip as she flipped on the light in her office to do what she had done every weekday for the last 21 years.  I will miss the kindness that the place showed to me as I fought for my life in the midst of breast cancer,  through 32 chemo treatments, while rubbing my head, wondering what my hair might look like, should it ever show up again.  I will miss the people who bought me the world's ugliest nightgown, only to dip their hands in paint, and then place those same hands on the gown, along with a sentiment of how much they loved me.  I will miss the way that these people stood by me when I lost my beloved mother to cancer last year.  I will miss how they asked me every day, "How are you feeling?  How is your family?"  I will miss how, after I learned that, once again, my family was faced with the big "C" when my beautiful husband was told he had lung cancer while undergoing tests for congestive heart failure, they continued to walk beside me.  But I am hoping that the very same technology that often drove me to the brink of insanity at the office will now keep me in touch with these people, these souls that I will miss seeing face to face through half-opened eyes at 8:30 am every Monday through Thursday.  Because of technology like this blog, Facebook, and email, I will get to hear their voices and see their faces, just differently.  Although I left there today with a spring in my step, carrying two large shopping bags filled with my life for the last 22 years, along with a beautiful orchid plant, I know that I made some of the best friends ever, and hoping that they will keep in touch and continue to be such a wonderful part of my life, even if I am sitting on the sofa all day beside the fire, eating bonbons.  Love and hugs.