As we close out our chapter in Northern Virginia, I’m reminded of another chapter closing: my old magazine.
We knew the end was coming. We just couldn’t say anything about it, until it was official. So in our last issue, Alice B. Lloyd wrote this poignant essay in our final issue.
This move has not been widely announced. It will take a few people by surprise. Including some of you reading this. (Sorry!) Back when the move was in the conceptual phase of “we might be moving to Cincinnati”, I did often wonder: is this the last time I will ___________?
Some were pretty clear, even before the move was officially in motion, but it doesn’t feel the same when there is no doubt. Last swim lessons at the public pool with the instructor who looks like Sean Connery? Last mass with Fr. George? Last time at El Paso?
The move counter is under five now. The house is being deconstructed. Surely, every experience now is a last experience, at least as a resident of Virginia.
Lloyd’s piece concludes: “the best last lines aren’t endings at all. And, really, would anyone want them to be?”
And it really isn’t an ending for us as much as it is a new beginning. Washington will always remain, not just as a place that inspired us when we were young, but as a place we send our tax money to, get our money from, and a place we will be returning to constantly for work and to see friends and family.