Not quite ready to leave
By By MaryClaire Foster
As I write this, it’s Tuesday afternoon, marking just a little over a week before my last day next Wednesday.
I was originally set to end my run Monday, but unforeseen circumstances prompted me to stick around just a little bit longer.
Getting to put off my departure, even for just a little bit more, was actually a relief. I’ve been kind of in denial about leaving. I still haven’t even started packing, and to put it off a bit longer suits me just fine.
This morning though as I was briskly walking down the side of Interstate 65 towards an accident scene, I felt my first twinge of relief about leaving my job. Don’t get me wrong I love what I do, but not all aspects of it and certainly not when it involves reporting on people being hurt. As I was traipsing down the side of the interstate, I couldn’t help but wonder what those people idling in the cars thought of me.
Most of all, in all circumstances when I am reporting I hate coming across as inconsiderate and nosy when I have to find out what happened, because I always care about how people or animals are affected and have vested interests in their well-being, but still it is part of my job and a lot of times that seems to trump the care and concern I express when I’m asking people personal questions.
And then there’s… well, really besides panicking that I’m never going to get a story done or a column written, I can’t say there’s much I won’t miss.
It hit me the other day that more than likely, no matter how many times I come back to visit, Atmore will never be the same to me and there’s a good chance there are people who have been regular characters in the story of my life that I might never see again. It’s such a strange thought to me to think about even the cashiers at businesses I frequent won’t be popping up in my life anymore.
The strangest part about it to me is this is not the first time I have moved. I spent four and a half years in Tuscaloosa while I was attending school and never did I get so attached.
Of course I look back with fondness on my time there, but it was always a college town, albeit the greatest one ever, but still I never experienced the same emotional attachment as I have with Atmore. I think because it was my first time on my own, my first real assertion of independence, that I feel this way. Atmore has become a true part of me, and I will always look back on this as one of the best experiences of my life.
MaryClaire Foster is news editor for The Atmore Advance. She can be reached via email at email@example.com