Verna the donut woman gave me cupcakes. I have not yet told her I am moving. She is the one person I cannot tell. There is a mental block. If I just disappear she will worry that I’m dead. I have dreamed of taking a picture of myself wearing the green Verna’s donuts sweatshirt with the skyline of Chicago in the background, and mailing that to her in a few months. That would only put her through months of needless worry. I don’t know how to say goodbye. I am planning a going away party with candlepin bowling.
It takes ten years to turn a newcomer into a native, but only six years to make a friend.
You have deeper roots than a great tree.