Are you familiar with the term Irish Exit? If not, surely you are familiar with the practice. It’s when you leave a party without saying goodbye to anyone…or, in my case, when you move away from your home state without a farewell party or saying many proper goodbyes.
I love Irish exiting parties where it will take more time to say goodbye to everyone than you spent enjoying the party (or worse, when you make a round of goodbyes and it takes so long that you end up having to say the dreaded second goodbye).
But when it’s something big, like moving out of state, I like goodbyes. I like closure, and toasts, and cards, and parties. I like to have one-one-one time with all my closest friends and family, so I can seal our bond before heading off. I had a going away party when I left for a six-month trip to Australia, for goodness’ sake. But it just wasn’t possible this time. My last two months looked like this:
Fly to Argentina for a two-week trip with my husband.
Halfway through the trip, Robert received two job offers in Colorado, after which ensued many conversations and many iMessages and emails back and forth with the head hunter. He accepted a job that would begin June 1.
We flew back to L.A. on April 25. That left us 5 weeks to pack up our apartment, finish out our jobs (which were both in very stressful end-of-things seasons), find an apartment in Colorado (we didn’t even know which town to look in!), and move ourselves and all our worldly possessions there.
It was a whirlwind. The final two weeks, I was administering finals to my students and then grading papers like a crazy woman, then packing or seeing family in the evenings. I literally did not finish up my job responsibilities until 2pm on Thursday, after which we went home, loaded the truck, and left for our road trip to Colorado at 5:30am the next morning.
There just wasn’t a lot of time for goodbyes. And now I feel somewhat guilty, and a little sad, and definitely discombobulated, as if someone just plucked me from my life in California and deposited me in the middle of my new one here in Denver. Which is kind of what happened, except said plucking and depositing would have been much more pleasant than the 24-hour road trip with 2 other full-grown people in the cab of a U-haul truck.
I guess all this is to say, if we did not get a chance to say goodbye, I’m sorry. And I wish we had. And stay tuned to this little blog, because I have a feeling it’s about to experience a revival as I adjust to my new life here and try to stay connected to all of you, all over the world.