Returns

I went back to Alpena today to clean out my office, the final official act of leaving any position. As I drove north, I enjoyed the solitude of my drive. Casey had stayed home to work, so I was on my own. I listened to the radio, as I prefer to do – NPR, of course, while they’re on talk mode, but nix the classical. Who really listens to classical anymore? I popped in an old mix tape a friend of mine had made: “Old But Not Forgotten 60s and 70s.” I sang along to some, and to others, simply spaced out into my own thoughts: my new job, the house, the “Check Engine” light on my car, and, of course, Isabelle.

The further north I got, the more I began to notice the change of scenery around me. More hills, more lakefront, more trees – lots more trees. The roads became less and less crowded the further north I went. As I came into Alpena, just south of our old subdivision – near Squaw Bay – I looked up to see a Bald Eagle flying overhead – flying out over the cattail swamp to the open waters of Thunder Bay. Further beyond, I saw the dense treed area of Partridge Point, jutting out in the deep blue bay. Okay, so THIS, I told myself, I will miss.

Even driving into Alpena, there are a lot more trees – small stands of them, long strip forests along the roadside, groups in yards and parks. Yes, many more trees. Looking out on the bay I realized that more than being able to see water, living on the water means being able to look out and see nothing – the expanse of open space, probably much in the same way people experience the space of the desert, only with water, the coloration and feel is no doubt much different. There is blue everywhere, from sky to water’s surface – all blue and reflections of sunlight. The air is fresh and clean and cool.

I went to the bank to close my account and to another bank to make a deposit. People were nice. Strangers looked to me with kind eyes as they talked to someone else, meaning to include me in their storytelling. Both men and women held open doors for me, waiting for me to reach the threshold before walking off. There was less movement everywhere I went. Not so many people, not so many cars, a much less crowded feeling. This I will miss.

Some days here, I already can sense that “city” attitude – it’s all about me, myself and I. Screw everybody else, I own the road, I don’t have to think about others, looking out for number one. It weighs heavier here, and I can feel it, like a wet blanket on a humid day – ugh. And there is nothing I can do about it. Oh, sure, I can do my own good deeds, yadda yadda – but I still sense that divide, that disconnect. It’s a bit depressing, really, to know there are so many more people here – more people, but less connect.

There are things I will miss about Alpena. I never said there wouldn’t be. I only knew it would take me a little longer to let them come to the surface. As in so many life experiences, through the test of time, it is the good things we remember – if only we give ourselves enough time.

As I cleaned out my office – thanks big to Angela for helping with that – I have to admit, I wasn’t sad. I thought I might be, but I just wasn’t. I realized as I sorted out stacks of papers and books – just how much work I had done for that college, just how much of my life I had given to my job. It was overwhelming. I might say I wouldn’t do that again, but I also realize just how much a part of me it is. I care about my job. I care about the people I encounter. I care about my students. I will do it all again, only in a new place with new people. It is always about “them” not me in my work. I know this because I could do what I see some of my colleagues do – teach overload after overload, summer classes – all for money. That’s not about others. That’s about self. That’s not what I did nor what I will ever plan to do.

After cleaning the office, we went to lunch – to Hunan. It was wonderful. Alpena actually has great Chinese restaurants. Another thing I will miss. We’ve tried one here, and it’s that overAmericanized-brown-sauce-no-flavor Chinese. We sat and ate overlooking the water. It was beautiful. A wonderful end to a great six years in Alpena. A delicious meal. A good friend. What more could I ask for?

I have many friends I leave behind in Alpena, but I don’t feel sad about this. People stay in my life. I might miss their closeness, but I never miss them. I know they are there – I can call them or e-mail them, but they are also always with me. They have become a part of who I am. I have assimilated some of them into my life. Too funny, as Angela would say. I’m feeling hinky about that, as Monica would say. And so much more – in my actions, in my words, in my way of seeing the world. My friends are who I become in my life, and I will return to them again and again in each and every day.