For the last two weeks or so, I’ve watched as my colleagues cleared out a year’s worth of items that have accumulated in their cubicles. The majority is tossed into the garbage, but trinkets and things that are to precious to be thrown so carelessly into the garbage are gently placed into a box. The last thing they put into their box is always their pictures of their loved ones. I can see their relunctancy to peel the pictures of their daughters, sons and wives from their walls and put them into a box. I’ve seen it be the last thing left a desk, a little girl missing her front teeth, holding up a sign that says “I love you.” Sometimes, a picture is gently placed into the person’s cargo pocket as they leave the office for the last time.
In the last couple of weeks, e-mails have started to be kicked back exclaiming, “I am currently in the process of demobolizing. In the future, please contact my counterpart for questions. Best of luck and god bless.”
I’ve watched my best friend here pack up his possessions, filling a duffle bag full of sandy uniforms and well worn boots. I watched him lock his door for the last time, and take off in the early hours of the morning.
Seeing this makes me awfully impatient to start making my journey home. In a matter of days, I’ll be clearing out my desk for good, slipping the two pictures I have on my desk, one of Aubrey with her hands on her hips and another of my mom and Aubrey at the pumpkin patch, into a box of my own. I’ll scrub my room of anything that made it mine, curtains with girly bows and a string of pictures of my family, best friends and of course millions of pictures of Aubrey. In 14 days, give or take, I’ll leave my toddler sized bed for my pillow top queen. In 19 days, give or take, I’ll exchange my uniform and holey boots for a pair of jeans and ballet flats.
I can’t wait to feel the gap that seperates me from snow covered Minnesota dwindle… it’s going to be a pretty wonderful feeling.
