through the back door

Charlotte Skyline

There have been times in my life, parties I've attended, where I've quietly exited through the back door. Without thanking the host or letting anyone know that I'm leaving, in a moment of "I'm done with this," I'm gone. When this happens, it's usually because I'm somewhere where I don't really know anyone, or I think I'll never see any of my fellow partygoers again. This is how I'm envisioning my exit from Charlotte. Tonight is our last night here, and I feel no emotional connection to this place. Yes, it's where Alex and I bought our first house (look how that turned out--ha!) and yes, it's where we had our first two children, but I've never felt a true sense of belonging here. It has been almost six years to the day that we arrived here, and I'm done with this.

Tonight we packed up the car, had a quiet dinner of sandwiches from our favorite local market, and looked around at our empty house from the comfort of our neighbor's lawn chairs. There were no going away parties or last-night dinners with friends, but that's how it should have been. When Alex and I arrived here from New York City we didn't know a soul (actually, Alex knew one guy) and we spent the first night in our [unfurnished] house much like we're spending our last night. Although the house hasn't sold--we're still waiting to see something in writing from this mystery offer-maker--I know this is the last time I'll be here. There's no reason or thing that I can think of that would bring me back to Charlotte. It's funny because when you leave New York, you know you'll be back to visit. But leaving Charlotte, this is really the end. I would probably be a little sad if I had time to think about it, but I'm so excited about what's ahead that I'm focusing my energy on the future.

Sitting in this quiet living room, I'm reminded of a phrase from one of Catcher's favorite books, An Awesome Book of Thanks, "thank you the end and thanks new beginnings."