And Then I Resigned


This photo was taken just a couple blocks from my preschool.  At the top of a hill, you get stunning views of San Francisco.  Driving home last Friday, I saw the cloud cover and the sun beaming through.  I parked my car and walked out along a dirt path.  I stood on the hill and scanned the horizon.  I take out my camera.


I review the photo.  “A little dark,” I think.  Change a couple of settings.


“That one looks good.”

I look at the horizon and take a deep breath.  Fresh air.  Cool.  My muscles relax.  I let the feeling sink in.  The feeling of weight being left on my shoulders.  Built up stress blowing off my shoulders like sand on the beach.

I just resigned from my job and this day was my last.  I spent the past week telling people.  Conversations, emails, and text messages.  Their surprise was just like mine.  Sudden shock.  I had given no indication that I was leaving.  I’ve been at my school for less than two months and I was saying “Adios.”  But it makes no sense.  I wasn’t complaining about my job.  I wasn’t venting about the large amounts of work.  Well, not any more than the next employee.  So, why?  What happened?

I told them my situation, which began last September, just before the first day of school.  A letter in the mail.  I told them about the letter.  Then I shared what my family was going to do because of that letter.  So far, everyone has understood the situation.  They’re in the same boat.  The teachers, the aides, the family advocate and other managers have told me that they are sorry to see me go.

So what was the letter?  Why did you resign?

In good time.  There are some people I still need to tell.

Back on the hill, I continued scanning the San Francisco skyline.  TGIF.  Probably one of the more relaxing Fridays I’ve had in awhile.  From this spot, I could turn my camera in any direction and get a stunning view of the city.

“But oh, San Francisco, as stunning as your views are, your rent prices are just too high,” I think.  “Can’t afford these views anymore.”

I get back to my car and drive home.  Grad school.  Family.  Two months to get everything done.  With work out of the way, I focus at the tasks at hand… and I think about the letter that started everything.


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