June’s been rather whacky so far. It’s my boss’s boss’s last month at work before he goes off to his new job, and there are a number of informal gatherings, farewell parties and summer-vacation get-togethers. We’ve been informed of the end of an era, while being treated to some darn good tapas made by our own employee cafeteria’s staff. One of our get-togethers will be a departmental picnic next week, at the cabin of our oldest co-worker who will be retiring in November. So many endings.
And yet, life and the routines of work go on as if nothing has happened, but a part of me keeps wanting to cry.
I can’t believe how many endings this month has brought. Yes, we have been expecting some of them, but they seem to be bunching up. Much like the last month of school, there are so many “lasts”.
I know that the only constant is change, but it still bugs me.
Yet, this time around I’m not as depressed as I was the first time. In fact, I’m not depressed at all. The tears are a natural grief, the genuine sorrow of having to say goodbye to a nice department and great co-workers.
Deep inside, some excitement about new things is stirring. It’s fun not to get stuck in a rut. It’s refreshing to find that one can be just as flexible and eager as any youngster. Oddly, this whole situation has me feeling young. I was feeling old for a while (and was cheered up by being informed that women have their mid-life crisis in their 40’s), but now I feel able to rise to any challenge and learn any new skill I need quickly and easily.
I love that feeling.