returning keys

A friend remarked to me that this past week I have made several things official. It’s true—I returned the keys to my former place of residence (duration being one summer) and to my former place of business (duration being four years). Both were difficult tasks, but not because I didn’t want to make these things official. I did. Here’s the weird thing—it took courage to return the keys, to look people in the eye and say “I’ve moved on from you.” Purely impersonal desire bade me do so &mdash I couldn’t fall back on necessity, such as moving out of state or coming into a staggering inheritance that required a drastic change of lifestyle. How do you tell someone “It’s been great” without feeling like an ass? There is the prize-winner’s guilt inherent in it—they’re not moving on, why should you? By leaving without compulsion, by turning someone down, are you not implying that you have better things to do? Better things that they don’t have?

…Does this make anyone else feel like an ass?

Certainly it doesn’t stop me from doing it. The first night that I slept in my new apartment, disentangled from expressions of gratitude and folksy goodbyes, brought almost as much satisfaction as if I’d built my own house.

Kissing off my past employer and all the maintenance he hadn’t done over the last four years, as well as the degraded product I had been selling for him, was a blessed relief.

But people are enduringly people, and I cringe at the thought of how many times I have watched someone leave me behind. Even when I was glad to see them go, there was always a faint feeling that I’d been had.

The one who says goodbye automatically takes the prize.

Of course, it must be remembered that if he returns, he has to return the takings and pay interest for the rest of his humiliated life.

I think that in saying “so long”, what you really take is a risk. On the upside, risk comes with a great high, if you can handle it.

(from September of 2007)