We are moving in 7 days. Crazy talk. Recently, we've revisited some favorites spots.
The last trip to Salvador Molly's:
The last sip of Cacao's drinking chocolate:
The last trip to the coast :
The last trip to the nursing home:
The last WES drop off and pick up (which technically isn't happening until Friday):
Too many lasts. Our good friends from church are hosting a goodbye party for us on our LAST Sunday, which is next week. Sigh.
Tyler's coworkers threw him a surprise party last night. It was dear to see so many people who genuinely love and appreciate him. DePaul Treatment Center (alcohol & drug programs) was a Craigslist hope that was only intended to last a year while Tyler reapplied to medical school. Now, 4 years later, he is saying goodbye to people that have shaped his hope of working in addiction medicine. There were about 20 incredibly loving and talented people at the party, most of whom are in recovery themselves. That's incredible. You'd have to have been at the party to feel the love. In my short time of working in the mental health field, the possibility of staying in recovery seems like an exception, not a rule. But nope, 20 people with rebuilt lives and huge hearts.
We'll have last days of work next week, last visits with friends, last walks and jogs at Cook Park (where after 4 summers we have yet to see an actual butterfly in the butterfly garden);
last memories of our 4 years in the Pacific Northwest. It doesn't feel like we're leaving. It's all these "fake" lasts. I'll probably have a break-down in tears as we drive away a week from now, but until then, we'll keep enjoying our "lasts" while they last.