Friday, April 30, 2010

Leaving This Place

Soon I will leave this place. No more house shaped like a big A. No more gentle walks over spiky pine cones down the gentle slope to the gray, lonesome dock. No more swimming across the lake and back. No more twenty minute drive to and from campus, stopping the car by the mailbox on the way home, leaving the engine and the radio on as I check the mail. No more turning on NPR at seven thirty in the morning while waiting for the espresso pot to bubble. No more waking up at 3:30 in the loft bed and searching the bookshelves as if by magic some new, unread book might have self-generated there. No more sleepover visits by the fat neighborhood stray calico cat with the stiff lump of fur on its back. No more climbing down the rusty dock ladder and avoiding its spider webs. No more glasses of wine on the rear deck with the sun setting red and blue over the lake. No more view of same lake from loft office where I spent too much time at the computer. I have graded my students. I have examined their portfolios. I have attended my last departmental meeting and thesis defense. I will miss my students. I will miss my colleagues. I will miss the little town where I've felt so welcomed. I will miss the student dives and the fancy restaurant (one) where I had my martinis at the bar. I will miss getting those peanut butter cup cookies at the Blackbird Cafe. I will miss having Pam make me double decaf espressos with just a little hot milk in the other cafe, the one in the library. I'll miss my little office (that wasn't mine, really, but only borrowed). I'll miss the people I worked with here. I'll really miss them. I won't say their names. I'll leave a piece of myself here, in Georgia. Such is the visiting professor's life.

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