letting go

I started this documenting of my time in the city 2 years and 3 months ago so that I would remember the adventure of being here, the things I encountered, and how I adjusted to life in a big city, in the northern-mid-west, away from my family, and alone among zillions of people.  I was excited, and every day presented something new that was either unique to Chicago itself, or to life outside small-town Alabama.  Over the time I've been here, I've updated my blog less and less, partly as I've discovered new interests that took up my time, and partly because those unique experiences became less unique and more commonplace.

It was inevitable that the day would come that I would say good-bye to Chicago and return to the hills of north Alabama and to my family.  Knowing that, it has become harder to think of leaving here - this place that has become "home" to me - and the sights and sounds and people and events that have become part of my life.  As thrilled as I may be about returning to my kids and my acquired-while-here grandson, and to mountains covered with trees instead of steel and glass, I become very sad when I think of not being here any longer.

That I'll be leaving in a way that was unexpected, and that makes my angry, doesn't help.  My company, in it's panic over a downhill slide and loss of confidence (of stockholders, customers, employees...) offered a "voluntary separation package", increasing the term of full pay and benefits employees would receive over a company-driven RIF.  There has also be a freeze on any hiring or "unnecessary expense", meaning Huntsville can't fill the position they had for me, and relocation is out of the question.  The way I saw it, turning down the package meant staying here indefinitely, or possibly being cut anyway with less advantage.  But I'd have a job.  And I would somehow get back eventually.

I told myself, in the 10 days we had to make our decision (with very little information), that I'd rather be in Chicago employed than in Alabama looking for a job.  I told myself that for a week.  The kids told me they were fine with me being here a little longer if that was what was best for me.  A friend told me to decide what was most important to me, and that would drive my decision.  My gut, which I've relied on for years to guide me in the way that was really right for me, was silent.

With 2 days left to decide, I was at a breaking point, unable to sort out what was best.  I crunched numbers and looked at job markets and even perused condos for sale in Chicago.  I went to the bar for a bloody mary and a shoulder to cry on, and sent Lacy a text that read "I'm a wreck, I don't know what to do.  Just beg me to come home".  Immediately my phone rang and I heard "pleasepleasepleaseplease come home!".  With tears threatening to seep over the spillway, I answered "okay...I'm coming home".

Burden lifted (almost), decision made (but I need to talk to a couple of people first), weekend saved (well, except for the 7-hour "brunch" with friends from work on Sunday).  Monday morning I called the Controller in Huntsville just to verify whether he knew of any secret mission to ship me back, then I filled out the application for the "VSP".  I sent it in, thinking that the roller-coaster emotions of the past week were behind me.

Since Monday, my emotions have been all over the place.  Anger for having to make this decision.  Shock at the number of colleagues that made the same decision.  Excitement to be returning to my real home.  Sadness to be leaving my current one.  I've not yet been told whether my application is accepted, but I'm low enough on the totem pole that there's little doubt it would be.  And I don't know if my end date will be a month, two months, 4 months from now so I can't really plan anything.  I'm in limbo, as are all the other applicants, and all the people that chose to stay.  They don't yet know what they will be left with or what pieces they'll have to pick up. 

At any rate, the end is near.  It will be roughly the same time as was previously planned, which was the November-December time frame.  The difference is that I'll be unemployed and the move will be on my own dime.  I'll have 6 months to find a job, hopefully close to comparable, and hopefully before the 6 months is up.  My income will actually be higher during that time since I should be eligible for unemployment in addition to my "separation pay".  And I'll be with my family.

I'll miss the Chicago winter which, to the amazement of most, I actually love.  I'll miss Michigan Avenue at Christmas.  I'll say good-bye to my condo and neighbors and door-people, good-bye to my friends at Hop Haus and other places around town.  Good-bye to deep dish pizza, Italian beef, Wrigley Field, L trains and buses and Metra.  Good-bye to Goose Island and Two Brothers beers, Portillo's chopped salad, Garrett's popcorn and my favorite mac-n-cheese.

I'll have to let go of my Chicago - yes I know I can visit but it won't be the same - and embrace my hills and rivers and backroads of North Alabama.  I'll adjust to the quiet, and the slower pace.  I'll have pets again, and a garden.  I'll bake and quilt and wear baggy pants and a purple hat.  I'll make new friends and old ones.  Now and then I'll think of my life here and all that I was able to do and see, and I'll smile and be happy that I had this amazing opportunity and that I was brave enough to take it.  And brave enough to let it go.

Oh yeah - I have to learn how to talk again...I got called out by my son last week for saying on (oin) instead of on (awn).  Geez loueeeeze.