“I’m going home,” is my response when my colleagues ask me where I’m going now that I’ve officially given notice. Yes, you read that correctly. I have quit my job. My last day is March 29.
I love the way those words, “I’m going home,” roll off my tongue. No, I’m not going to a new paying job. I’m literally going home. To my husband and my kids. It’s an amazing feeling. A little scary, too. But mostly amazing. After all this time struggling over the decision, to have finally made the decision is nothing short of miraculous. There’s a part of me that never thought I would do it. Up until the moment I actually did.
Although I know I will miss some of the intellectual challenges of my job, I’m mostly going to miss the people. But as I’ve told them, I won’t be far away. We can still do lunch. Although it may have to be at a cheap fast food place.
I feel like I’m standing inside a building, with an open door in front of me. The vista is vast and limitless. There are beautiful green fields with multi-colored wildflowers, and a deep blue sky that evokes infinite possibilities for the future.