Leaving a ship is always…bittersweet. You’re exceptionally glad, so very glad, to be going home, you long for home – for the ground not moving under your feet, for the sheer soothing quiet of the night without the rattle of wheels on corrugated metal, just the sound of your own breathing.
But at the same time, you miss that noise in the night, you miss the whirr of the engines and the clang of the elevators…
And leaving this particular ship? It wasn’t easy. I pulled an all night shift trying to get everything done and am still leaving some very important repair work in the hands of the IT (who, thankfully, I trust with a very great deal), and more loose ends than I would like.
And then there’s the ship herself, leaving the flagship, walking down that gangway for the last time; it felt…incredibly strange. We had a long conversation her and I, and I said my thank yous and my farewells, and if that makes me sound crazy well…then I guess I’m crazy.
So here I am, on a plane zipping across the sky towards home….and a part of my mind can’t quite tear away from those commitments it feels like I left behind, even though I know they’ll be totally competently handled without me – I guess I’m just not great at letting other people handle my mistakes…and I can’t help but feel that I’m jetting across a whole new horizon…
And I find myself both scared and undeniably excited by that concept…
Welcome home