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Sunday, April 8, 2018

Letting Go, Part II

(The first part of this post can be found at http://www.lyndamartinmlis.com/2017/12/letting-go.html.)

The first part of this post relayed my sadness about the conditions of my childhood home and hometown, which have changed from wonderful places to grow and explore to a condemned house and drug-infested town.  While I have pride in the memories of my hometown, I have accepted that my memories are only things of the past and not likely to be resurrected in the present or future.  I have let go.

The same can be said about my attachment to the school and job I worked at for more than 20 years.  In Disappointment I wrote how betrayed I felt when I discovered the new library I designed before my retirement, the piece I felt would be the capstone of my career, was not built to the specifications I designed.  While I still feel, firmly, that my vision was superior to the one carried out, I can let this go.

I can't say this is a good feeling.  In fact, I have no feeling about this now.   I have accepted the situation for what is was and have more or less discarded any attachment I had to the project.  Should I be happy or sad about this?  I don't know, and it doesn't matter.  Time has moved on.

My successor, Tara Tipton, is doing a fantastic job with the library and is making it her own.  I am quite pleased with her accomplishments and look forward to seeing what her vision will bring to the students and teachers in the school community.  Her makerspace is underway, and it promises great activities for the kids.  Her vision for collection development will focus strongly on materials that promote creation and innovation.  I know under her guidance the students and teachers will have access to the best available.  As it should be.

As for me, I think I am finally ready to retire in mind as well as in body.  It has taken fifteen months to come to this realization, but now that I have accepted this thought, I don't believe I will go back and fret about what has or has not been done to my design.  It isn't my fight.

The thought is freeing.