ALmost Gone

This time tomorrow (12:00 ish) I will be on the train heading west. It all feels a bit surrealistic to me. It is as if I can hardly believe that I am actually moving, or perhaps because, at least in my head, I left so long ago that the time in between the thought and the actual physical move has just been time that is irrelevant. Or perhaps this fuzzy disconnected feeling is just the effects of the decongestants that I am taking to combat a cold that I seem to have picked up from my daughter or at least her house.

While I think I said good bye to most of the people that I wanted to, it still feels as if there are folks that I have missed. There were others to whom I said good bye to and who didn't seem to take my move very seriously. It was almost as if at least a few of them assumed that I would be coming back to Peterborough. I wonder what they know that I don't? I think for of a few of the folks that I spoke to - I had been so long out of their lives, sometimes disconnected because of my switch in careers - that they wondered why I was telling them.  I suspect that my general aloofness perhaps discourages outward displays of feelings.

I never even tried to re-visit the various places that have been important to me. I may in the future regret that, but as I was driving through the three counties that have shaped so much of my adult life, all I could think of was - what have I forgotten to do and how bad will the snow flurries get as I pass through the next snow belt?

All of that stuff is behind me now. what has been done, has been done. What I forgot to do or just didn't get around to doing won't get done. Things that have to get done - will get done at the other end.

I am off tomorrow - the train if it is on time, will leave Sudbury Junction at 5:13AM. A long time ago, on CBC television there use to be a children's program called Maggie Muggins. At the end of each program she use to dance around and sing " and I wonder what will happen tomorrow" (or at least that is how I remember it 55 years later). It often feels as if that little ditty could be mantra for my life.