The official changing of hands finally happened yesterday. Despite the two-month-long limbo I've had to wrap my head around the switch, nothing quite prepared me for the whammy of emotions that hit me, right in the heart.
The torrent of tears were unexpected and illogical, but understandable when one has to say goodbye to the best mentor a writer can ever wish for. The finality of it kick-started a mental reel of pivotal moments, all of which brought on a mix of reluctance and gratitude, along with fresh waves of tears.
So I gave in to them for a bit, then I fixed my makeup and hailed a cab to a press conference. I sniffled a little while sitting through the peak-hour jam, acted fairly normal amongst work acquaintances, went out to dinner, teared a little while waiting in line, shared a few laughs over coffee and a slice of murderous chocolate cake, and then went home and let it all out.
My tear ducts haven't been on overdrive like this in a long while, and it was incredibly bizarre and inexplicable, yet so cathartic at the same time. It was less a lament of loss, more a recognition of acceptance and change. So, I'm cutting myself some slack this weekend for being human (and a woman). Life will roll right along come Monday.
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