Water Under the Bridge

It's over, the job of almost eleven years, is past. My last day was December 31st. It was almost surreal knowing that not only was I being sent out the door, but that in just a couple more months the whole thing was in the past. New Hope is no more. Yesterday I took cookies to the final five and to my delight was also able to take my chair home with me. Yes, the chair and I have been together for a long time, so we've melded into a comfortable unit. It's almost like old times this morning, sitting in it and typing away. But it's not old times. The door is shut and the keys have been turned in.

It's only fitting that yesterday it began snowing. Sort of like heaven was covering up the ickiness. Burying the body so to speak under the beautiful snow.

It's history now. No use crying over the spilled milk as they say; it can't be rebottled or put to good use. It's water under the bridge. But a travesty it was.