From a logical standpoint, things are just things. Inanimate objects have no real intrinsic value. But God didn't make us completely logical beings. The older I get the more I believe that we are better people when we embrace our emotional sides.
The reason I'm talking about this is, as I sat in my writing nook trying to figure out what I was going to write this week, I began to look around and contemplate the fact that I'll be leaving this house, and most importantly, this room soon, never to return. It made me melancholy. I'll have another place to write and read and contemplate, but it won't be this place. These white shelves will have books and knick knacks that aren't mine. I won't be able to look above me and see the little stain on the ceiling from when we had a downpour before the contractors had our new roof finished. I won't be able to look out the window and see my slightly crazy neighbor mowing his yard for the third time in a week--at 8am on a Sunday. I won't sit and think for the thousandth time about what I should do about the TV cable sticking out of my wall that isn't hooked up to anything but will leave a big hole that goes all the way outside if I just cut it. I won't write another book here.
So maybe it's not the place directly that I'll miss but the memories that are attached to it. But that's just my silly logical side coming out. This room has become a friend to me. It's undergone transformations over the years; there used to be a huge computer desk in here and, after that, there was a futon for a while. It took a long time to get it just the way I wanted it. It's kind of like me. I've taken a long time to get to a place where I'm comfortable in my skin, but I think I'm getting there. So we're a lot alike, my old friend and me. And just like it brought several tears to my eyes this week to say goodbye to my beloved students, it's going to make me pretty sad to bid farewell to this place.
But, of course, that's not logical.