Last Week

 Five Days To Go

There are only five working days left before I retire. I am making every effort to leave a clean slate behind me, but it will be challenging. In my last week I need to complete a full podcast edit (with three social media promotions), two 3D site renderings, two videos describing the company's technological innovation, a recruitment video for an office in another state, and partially attend and present at a two-day summit for the proposal staff. And anything else that comes in.

While doing all of that, I need to:

• Make sure the staff remaining know where to find my files
• Explain how to use different 3D and audio programs
• Attend regular meetings with my manager to go over 24 years' worth of work

It's going to be a busy week.

As excited as I am about retiring, it's difficult to leave my job after 24 years with the same family of people. I worry that my clients are not going to get the same level of service while the department looks for my replacement (I know things will be return to normal once a new designer is hired). I feel guilt over the increased workload the other two designers will have to take on in the interim. Although in theory we should all be interchangeable, in practice we each evolved specialities.

It has also begun to sink in that after five more days at the office I will be without structured purpose. I will be able to sleep in as late as I want. I will be able to do whatever I want during the day without worrying about after-hour scheduling.

I face a life of unfettered, deadline-free, stressless days.

That prospect is only a little less terrifying than the approaching collapse of the environment.

Since beginning my career as a journalist, schedules and deadlines have been my lifeblood. I hope I'm ready for this.

My main solace in the process is looking forward to the planned move to New York. I enjoy my romanticized vision of the City and my life there. I'll sip cold brew from my local bodega while walking my dog in the park, or review the latest shows with friends while red and gold Autumn leaves drift down on a crisp breeze. Sunlight is diffused so as to never cause one to squint, and in the background there is the omnipresent sound of children laughing commingled with music from a street performer playing their saxophone.

I even enjoy the more realistic imagining of my future living in—or as is more likely, near—the City. Falling leaves will be wet ad slippery. I'll listen to other people talk about shows I haven't seen and may not be able to afford. Sunlight is either blinding or absent. And street performers accost and harangue rather than provide scene-appropriate orchestration. I don't care. I want that life, too.