A door closes

I sit back this Sunday night, browsing aimlessly. A smile plays on my lips for I know I will not be walking into work tomorrow. This past week, I closed one chapter of my working life. A week from now, I may start another. In the meanwhile, I have a week off to clean, decompress and get ready for the newer challenges.

Over the past year, a feeling of restlessness crept into my soul, slowly snaking its way through the core of my being. Little things added up to a point where I felt like I had to take pause, reflect on where I was and how to change course. The casualty, it turns out was my job. The long hours, the more than frequent weekend work, the sense of doing something I felt I was not the best at added up. I fiddled around with my resume. Editing a section at a time. Working on it piecemeal. In between reading for my exam or with Facebook open on a browser window. One weekend it happened, I shot an email to a few friends I knew. I was feeling restless. Would they know of positions in their company?

This Friday when I walked out of the building, the sky was overcast, the cold bitter. I left behind close to five years of memories. Yet, I walked out alone. Just like any other day. Starting my car, I sat for a moment before I pulled out, tears falling thick and fast. I am sentimental like that.

Snatches of images from the day played in my head. The colleague from a floor above, popping into my cube shock writ large on his face. A warm hug, a promise to keep in touch. Another colleague, someone I have worked with incessantly over the past five years passes me by, indifferent. Touching notes via email render me emotional. I scan through the folders of my laptop. One last time looking for scraps of personal information left behind by oversight. I open the cabinets. They look clean. And bare.

I bundle up all remnant relics of my association with the company and stop by my managers desk. Handing over the laptop and associated paraphernalia, I say a brisk bye and walk out. I feel light and unburdened.

All weekend long, I process the end. And I smile.