Standing at the edge of the wilderness
and peering out across a vast landscape,
I am preparing to leave the garden
where parts of my professional persona
have been cultivated and nurtured and developed.
I will let go of the guardrails
and enter a territory without roads and few guide posts.
I will shed well-worn and comfortable clothes,
not knowing how to dress,
which ones will fit, which will not,
while having to make new garments along the way.
It is 50 years in the field coming to an end.
Work has drawn out the calm presence
that’s been the antidote to anxiety,
provided the structure that’s been the defence against depression,
awarded accomplishment that’s been the salve for self-doubt,
gifted the companionship of colleagues that’s been the bulwark against isolation,
and offered inspiration from clients’ courage.
Unanswered questions hover like spirits in the night air:
Who will I be? What will I do? How will I manage? What will my life be about?
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I always feel my comments are so bland after your beautiful writing. Your writing always moves me. Thank you.
Cherlynn