I wrapped up at my current (or previous, I suppose) day job today.
I worked from home during my time there, and I’ve mostly worked from home for the past few years. I haven’t always worked from home, though, and repeating this moment of departure a few times now has made me realize something: I like to romanticize moments.
There’s something about sitting in your office at home, alone, and slowly closing the lid of a laptop that doesn’t feel poignant enough. You’re simply sat there, where you’ve sat a thousand times, surrounded by the same objects and activities that you’re always surrounded by.
When I did work in person, in an office in London, I remember the slow walk out of the office on my final day. I remember the conversations I planned to have and the ones that I didn’t; the ones that happened only because someone was riding the same elevator that I was.
It probably wasn’t all that romantic, in reality, but we needn’t let reality ruin a good memory. In my mind I exit with long hugs, a few tears and a slow, drawn-out walk. I don’t think this ever happened, but I imagine looking back every few steps, and finally seeing the lights flicker off. When they do, I see myself nodding my head gently; knowingly.
When I got to Liverpool Street station to catch the Overground back home, I’d stare absent-mindedly at the boards (probably), thinking about the past few years, and the new adventure I was about to embark on. I’d (presumably) decide to stay off my phone on the train, choosing instead to stare out of the window as the city disappeared out of view.
I can’t tell you if any of that actually happened, to be honest, but that’s how it happened in my mind. I do remember today the people who said kind things, the gratitude I paid to others, and the people who wanted to share contact information. Perhaps we simply think of all memories more fondly the further in the past that they are.
The point of this post isn’t that I prefer working in person, because I don’t. I love working from home. I love being able to focus on my work, I love seeing more of my family, and I absolutely do not miss the crowded evening Overground. I do miss marking this one moment with a bit more theatre, though. I miss holding the moment for a moment longer.
Should I have another departure in my future, I’ll do just that. I’ll leave a little more room in the moments following to sit with my experience, and to sit with my feelings. There’s something wonderful about making a big deal out of something just because you can.