Today was my last day at Hillcrest.
I thought that this would feel much happier than it does.
I didn’t expect the sadness to be equal to the happiness. And when the sadness and happiness are equal, they cancel eachother out, and I am just kind of left feeling nothing in a time where I expected to be feeling everything. I was so excited about coming home today and throwing away all the old stuff that I will never use now that I am not a Hillcrest baker anymore. The dresses and aprons with oil soaked into them (you can actually feel it when you touch them) and stains on them, the veil with the blueberry pie filling stain, the crocs that are almost worn through, the backpack that is falling apart, the bag that I would put my crocs in when I wore boots to walk to work…. Throwing these things away was supposed to be kind of a triumphant, satisfying moment. But I have not yet brought myself to throw these things away. I just don’t quite want to admit that this part of my life is over. I realize that part of the reason that I feel so kindly towards my job right now is because I am full of warm, glowy feelings, from all of the nice things people said when I finished work today. My bosses even gave me a going away gift! Marlene and I schputted (I don’t know how to spell that. German isn’t a written language anyways.) all morning, and I made a smiley face out of raisins on top of one of my muffins and it even had eyebrows. And Marlene asked if I was making sure to put ten raisins in each muffin, and I said that I thought we were supposed to have 11 in each muffin, and she said that that muffin only has 9, and it was funny because we just stick raisins in the muffins. We certainly never take time to count them. Florence and Marlene and I had a race to see who could finish the job that they were currently working on first, and the winner got to make the peanut butter granola. Thankfully, I didn’t win. Margaret won. And she wasn’t even racing! Eva and I talked more than normal. The new girl asked so many questions, and it annoyed me because I just wanted to enjoy my last day, and do all the jobs I normally do.
But last night, I prayed, and asked God if he would maybe consider giving me a beautiful morning for my last bike ride to work as a baker. And he did. It was a blue, bright sky. As Marlene put it, “Five o’clock looked more like six o’clock.” Maybe I will soon start to feel happier about this. I guess I was just expecting some feeling of great relief when I walked out that door. And instead, I just felt like crying because of how nice everyone was and how I’m going to miss them all, and how scared I am about the future (why would one leave such a good job behind? What kind of stupidity is this, anyways?), and how I finally started to like making muffins and loaves.
Is nothing in life ever simple?