“Kick ass.”

We were lining up for graduation and I was on deck to give the class speech. Dr. Snyder pulled me aside and told me about a speech she was supposed to give that had rattled her nerves. Her professor pulled her aside and told her to whisper “kick ass” as she walked up to the microphone.

Moving. The bittersweetest of endeavors. Yes, it's the worst. A strong motivating factor for staying in Indy was the avoidance of the move process. Ultimately job availability won out. This round of packing has once again stirred the nostalgic embers; rummaging through old stuff will do that. So many memories with this move are tied to the apartment itself. Almost two-and-a-half years in Indy! The memories:

Another road trip. Another trek to another Indiana corner. There are only so many corners in a square-shaped state. We're running out of road.

This trip led north. Past the Chief Menominee memorial and up to the South Bend / Fort Wayne areas.

An unmitigated disaster. The weekend wouldn't end that way, but it was off to an inauspicious start.

We had traveled to a retreat nestled in the California Redwoods for Kevin's wedding. At least most of us had. Kris, our cabinmate, missed his flight "by 6 minutes," or as one of Kevin's consulting buddies put it: "You mean he missed his flight." Pete had been grounded by severe storms in Dallas. The guy had flown halfway across the world for the weekend and now couldn't find a flight in to San Francisco, San Jose, Sacramento, LA, etc etc. It was Labor Day weekend. Burning Man weekend.

"So that's our first goodbye."

Lori and I had just said goodbye to Jordan and Colleen. They were leaving for Peoria in the morning. New jobs. New apartment. New life.

It was well past dusk as we walked down the Monon. I nodded in agreement. My heart swelled as it does with goodbyes. Where there used to be longing, sadness, sorrow, now there is a bittersweet fullness. Emotion pervades, but without form or definition. It's not tear invoking. Rather it's a sense of being filled to the brim with life, with the sense of being alive. It's beautiful.

As with most waiting places, I don't know exactly when I arrived. It just sorta happened.

My job offer came through on July 5th. My application for New York State licensure to practice as a PA was submitted July 9th. Since then, I've slipped into the dreaded Dr. Seuss Waiting Place.

My application has yet to be processed by the state. Until it's processed, I am unable to apply for my DEA license. Without either, I'm unable to start work.

A dozen ballerinas twirled across the sunlit stage. The shimmer of their white leotards balanced softly upon the notes of the piano that reached out to the hushed crowd. We had just crested the Newfield's hill and were greeted by the wonder of the Penrod Arts Fair. It lived up to it's billing as Indiana's Nicest Day.

Over 350 artists from around the United States annually descend on Indianapolis to showcase their talents and proclaim the close of summer. Their stalls traverse the Grand Allee of the former Lilly estate, each a celebration of creativity. Visual artists weren't the only artisans in attendance. A visit with the local meat and ale vendor provided us with a proper base for the afternoon.