A Year in the Life: Reflections on my Niece's First Year

My niece turned one last Sunday. It made me reflect on all the things that have happened since she was born, in a way I haven't really thought about the span of a year before.

I finally visited my brother in SC. He'd only been living there for two years.

I taught my first online class, which also happened to be the largest class I have ever taught.

I experienced my first time teaching a class for a second time. Things are remarkably easier the second time around...who would have imagined?

I advanced to candidacy (and have more or less written my dissertation...I think...)

I went through two roommates (through no fault of my own...I swear...)

Trump is running for President (and it terrifies me that my niece's earliest memories may involve him as President!)

I went through my first round of (real) job applications, my first (real) interview and my first round of heart-wrenching rejections.

I turned 30, which was surprisingly accompanied with a bit of an identity crisis.

I accepted a position as an adjunct professor at my alma mater, Wittenberg University.

I moved back to Ohio.

My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent surgery, chemo and radiation.

And then my grandma's cancer returned.

Now, this week, my mom has to have another surgery, unrelated (hopefully!) to the cancer.

And all these things -- many of which have been major moments in my life -- won't even be memories for my niece.

So much can happen in a year, good and bad. The good things in life don't wait for the bad things to pass. My advisor said that to me once. It turns out, the bad things in life don't always wait for the good things to pass either. Life just keeps going, good turning into bad, bad turning into good, one replacing the other.

On the Eve of My Departure: Learning How to Say Goodbye

I haven't posted in a long time. I've been professoring and dissertating. But here I am, sitting in a mostly empty room, walls almost glowing from their bareness, drinking sparkling pomegranate juice -- straight out of the bottle because I don't have any cups -- and I honestly don't know how I feel.

Last week, I took the pups on a final walk meandering through the hills, up and over to the Rose Garden, winding back down the side streets.

Sunday, I said goodbye to Trinity and Pastor Mark. Pentecost. The reminder that the Holy Spirit is all around us, has always been all around us. The anniversary of the day people finally learned, not to speak in tongues, but to actually hear one another, to understand one another. Such a powerful message, in the midst of all the debates going on in the Church right now, in the midst of UM General Conference and the talks of schism.

Yesterday was one last Celia's date with D. One last time to talk about our research, about the opportunities that have come our way. One last time to gossip about the area, about the program. One last time to fret over the job market and try to reassure each other.

This morning was the Greek final exam and my last class as a Newhall teaching fellow.

Then there was one final snuggle with Olive, as I said goodbye to Jess and the pups on the quad.

One last study session in the library. One final trip to Menchies. The Last Supper in the dining hall, which, perhaps fittingly, consisted of garlic bread and ice cream.

And tomorrow will entail even more one last times.
One last time drinking my coffee instead of the dining hall's.
One last breakfast burrito.
One last time seeing Costello.
One last time checking out the view from the roof.
One last time walking across the quad.
One last meal with Gruncle.
One last time being in Arch 305.
One last, one last, one last.

I've felt the tears building up since Sunday, but they aren't coming. This has been my home since August 20, 2012. I spent a few weeks home at Christmastime and during the summers, and all last summer, but this room has basically been home for nearly four years. The roommates have come and gone -- I'm on #4 -- but I have remained here. I never wanted to move to CA, to Berkeley, but it's what I had to do. And, it turns out, it was the best place for me to be. The faculty, the staff, the community...the people who have loved and supported me through so much. Through a rough first semester. Through cultural shock, through ignorance and education about the queer community. Through a family tragedy. Through what seemed to be a major setback in the program. Through my mom's cancer. And they have celebrated with me as well -- teaching fellowships, adjunct opportunities, the birth of my niece, proposals passed, comps passed, chapters written...the list goes on. These people have been my family, my hope, my help. They have kept me strong, believed in me and for me when I couldn't.

And now I have to say goodbye to them.

I'm so excited to go home to Ohio, to what lies ahead, but how to do I saw goodbye to the people who loved me and raised me and shaped me, the people who formed me into the scholar and teacher I have become? How do I tell them how much they have meant to me? That I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't them, that they will continue to hold me up, that I am taking them with them, if only in my heart. How does goodbye convey any of that?

And yet, tomorrow, I will say goodbye. And it will be enough. Because it has to be, because I know they already know.