Like the darkness sneaks up on the daylight, the weeks between that first appointment and my last day at work have disappeared with little warning.
It is my last day of work for the year and my stomach is a fire pit of emotions.
It had felt so long since I had booked the surgery that everyday life had snuck in and taken over and I had almost forgotten about what was coming.
In saying that, the past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of preparation. It has been hard not to let the list of tasks to do before I leave completely overwhelm me as I tried to make the most of my last days and activities here and yet still get everything done.
I’m worried that I haven’t done enough to prepare my fill-in at work and worry about being away from something I have grown quite protective of.
But I’ve done the best I can and I’m just going to have to be ok with that.
To farewell my life in my current form my friends at work are throwing me a kids themed party and as I head downstairs I can smell the results of Flatmate 1 and his girlfriend’s bakng It smells cinnamony and sweet.
I can see her at the sink frantically piping. As I get closer I can see she had decorated the cake with an icing leg. It seems a fitting tribute.
When all the food comes out I am overwhelmed with the effort my friends and work colleagues have gone to. It is a sugary wonderland of kids’ dreams, with everything from cookie monster cupcakes, to chocolate spiders, crackles and lolly bags. Flatmate 1 later remarks that it is a bigger spread than some people get when they leave the company for good.
The boss says a few nice words and gives me an awkward hug and then with a sugary hangover I pack up my things and that’s it for the working year. It’s a weird feeling driving away knowing I won’t be seeing the place for four months.
It’s during the drive home that again I am struck by how much I will miss and just how huge this adventure this that I am about to embark upon. I have a farewell dinner to attend but I’m not sure I can pull it together enough. I have barely acknowledged it to myself let alone admitted to anyone how scared I am.
I sit in the car in our driveway collecting my thoughts and decide to give H a call. He always manages to make me feel better and distract me from whatever is going on.
As I sit at dinner and look around at my friends, it still doesn’t quite feel real that I won’t be seeing them until the new year.
I will be missing so much, but I will gain so much. That’s the tradeoff.