I just read a book called The Sense of an Ending.  I am not recommending it.  I fiercely hated the book.  The main character was so thoroughly unlikable and  I wanted very bad things to happen to him.  But hey.  This post is not about him or the book he lives in.  It’s only about his title.  I love the musicality of that title.

Since I read the book, and since I am facing some pretty significant endings, I keep thinking about endings: the kind of endings you can see coming, not the sudden, unexpected ones – that’s a different topic for a different day.

Some things have no ending.  My life is a lot of that. And I like it very much – thank you.

My marriage is never ending.  Ho boy.  That sounds bad and grueling – doesn’t it?  I don’t mean it that way.  I lurv me my man.  And I am glad he is stuck with me forever.  Parenting never ends.  Ever.  You knew that right? Practicing my religion is a forever deal – also, a good thing, and by my explicit choice.

But some things end and the ending of things can be so, so good.  My school is ending.  Tomorrow actually.  I will never not have a Master’s Degree again after tomorrow.  My awesome job is ending at the end of this month, at least for me.  Someone else will take it and it will be their beginning.

I like endings.  I have never once been sad at a book ending, whether it was all resolved, cliff-hanging, happy or sad.  I like books to end.  I like to finish things.  I like counting down.  I like the anticipation of ending, the thrill of a new thing beginning.  What will fill the space where the old thing was?  The sense of an ending feels like a breeze to me – not a breeze as in an easy thing, but a breeze as in a soft wind moving the hair off your neck, making you look up and around.

So, here’s to endings.  Mine and yours.  Look up and around.


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