As I write this, I’m sitting in Houston Airport on my way back from Little Rock, probably for the last time.
As part of my consulting job before the present, I was working with five schools in Little Rock, helping them with strategic planning, communications, enrollment, and fund-raising. It was a four-year program, and I visited the schools six times a year. Even with a year of pandemic-based interruptions, I figure that I have visited the schools in person seventeen times. Each time was a quick turnaround, two nights in the same hotels, but it provided punctuation to my year.
As I said goodbye to each of the schools during the past two days, I felt a variety of emotions. I’ve come to know these people, but I’m not a friend. Saying goodbye felt awkward as I repeatedly said that I’m sure we will see each other again, but that is not likely. This part of my life is over, and this door is closing.
At one of the sites, they had a cake and fake champagne, which felt about right, but mainly I left without much fanfare.
And within a few hours, I’ll be home.