last night
It was a long and surreal day at work. I finished going through all my files and emails to warm up to the idea that it was really the Last Day.
After I said goodbye to the remaining library folk right after dinnertime, I knew it was time to tackle the matter of my office.
Five years of files, of gunk, of whole warrens of dustbunnies. Of all the things I had posted on my bulletin board, of the endless post-it notes stuck to pieces of paper in file folders in hanging files in a cabinet. My head swam, from the dust I was kicking up, from the memories. I recognized eras of my time there by the color and quality of the ink on the page.
Forty-five minutes after closing, I put my key on my coworker’s desk and said goodbye to the library. And I didn’t cry.
When I arrived home, Inkbot surprised me with lovely sunflowers and a card, plus homemade pizza, champagne, and strawberry shortcake. We watched an episode each of Buffy and Angel, and then I went to my room to write everything I could remember in my offline journal.
I didn’t dream about uncertainty, about teeth falling out, about my cousins throwing a baby shower for anyone, about dogs or armadillos or losing Zen during an earthquake. I dreamed about getting on a train.
I dreamed about my life.