A bittersweet departure

There’s no way to say that leaving is easy.

In just 6 hours I’ll have to be on the road to a friend’s house to head to Chicago for a baseball game before leaving Indiana completely. I called this place home for a year. I made friends, formed my own dysfunctional family in a way. I fell in love with a writing gig and graduated from college (again).

Indianapolis will always hold a special place in my heart. Much like the villages of Zambia, Africa and the town of Aix-en-Provence, France do.

I hated (maybe even despised) leaving Victory Field for the last time. It meant that all the wonderful hours I spent at the ballpark working Рyes, working Рwere over. The connections I made there are ones that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Brian and Chris helped me find my footing in the world of communications for a baseball team. I observed Рwith the intensity of a student on the first day of classes Рwhat they were doing because I want to do everything as well as they do. They also gave me a chance Рtook a risk on me Рto help them out with some of the content they provide. It is something that I will never forget.

Leaving the stadium to me is on a completely different level from leaving the friends I’ve made behind. I’ve found some of the greatest friends here – people who accept me as I am and still choose to hang out with me. They’ve helped me step outside of the shy box I sometimes find myself to be adventurous (or at least try new things).

Everything just feels bittersweet.

I’m excited to go home. To see my family. Spend time with my mom. Go get coffee with my other college friends. Pick apart all the boxes of stuff I’ve accumulated over the years.

There are so many great things that are waiting for me at home. But, I’m leaving just as many.

Random adventures to Cincinnati. Spur of the moment trips to a Pacers game. Late nights out with my closest friends. Meeting for lunch because we happen to be in the same area.

This departure feels different than the one I had a year ago after finishing up at Spring Arbor. And I spent four years there. But maybe it’s supposed to feel different, because I’m different.

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