Almost midnight the day before I leave Montana. Katy and Jon will be here sometime tomorrow-this-evening. Leave-taking is a whole sticky ball o' wax and I realized that one of the most difficult things about it is giving over the keys. When I left my beloved little apartment in Ogden, I looked at how empty and clean it had become in spite of my thinking that getting it to that point was a slow, tortuous death and I would not live to witness the final vacuuming. I wanted to move back in. I didn't want to shut myself out by forfeiting possession of my keys. It was after office hours and I had to put my them in an envelope and drop them in the rent box in the lobby. Boy, was that envelope sticky! It did not want to leave my fingers. It felt as though I were dropping something precious into a deep well.
Tonight, as I was talking to some people I have grown close to in the last couple of weeks, I was suddenly struck with the familiar realization that again, I will have to hand over my keys. That's a hollow feeling. Everyone else gets to keep their keys for a few more weeks and they will continue to go in and out of our Summer Program home, cheerfully, dramatically, emotionally, proudly in and out of our shared lives, only not ours so much anymore but theirs.
One more thing to not be a part of anymore. But I have a feeling that some part or parts of living in Alaska will claim me and the place will have keys aplenty for me.