“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.