Sunday Scribblings: Quitting

The writing prompt over at Sunday Scribblings is “Quitting:” Have you ever quit something? A job, a sport, a school play, a relationship? How did it feel? Were you guilty? Flooded with relief and a powerful feeling of freedom? Do you maybe quit things too easily? Or do you never quit, even when you should? What does it mean to be a "quitter"?

No fiction today, just reality.
Interestingly enough, I resigned from my job on Friday. I will no longer – well, after June 6 – be working for a newspaper in Northern California.
And in a few short weeks, I’ll pack up everything I own and my dogs – Trinity and Scully – and travel 1,700 miles east to South Dakota. A new city. A new newspaper.
This is not a joke; people look, laugh and say, “Yeah, right.”
I say I’m off; then they ask, “Aren’t you scared?”
Not in the least.
This was meant to happen; a logical progression in my life and in my career. A chance to continue to evolve.
Sure, I hang a heavy head when I think of the life I’ve created for myself in Cali. The friends and loved ones who support and nurture me. But my friends will always be my friends.
And my new town is within a four-hour drive of all my family.
It was time.
I could no longer write for my current paper. It had lost all of its charm, its beauty. There is a difference in philosophy on how best to cover the news, how best to serve the readers. My philosophy differs.
And we part ways.
I’m going to a larger newspaper to cover environmental/outdoor issues. More news, a little less features. They want me to nurture their younger reporters as a writing coach (something I’ve always wanted to do).
Biggest thing is, they want me in their newsroom. They are excited for what I bring.
Respect from your superiors goes a long way.
Still, I feel for the community I am leaving. I’ve tried to serve them to the best of my ability for 11 years. I feel like I am letting them down.
And then I think about what we’ve done across 11 years. Not just the awards, but the comments from people at gas pumps and grocery stores, restaurants and beer joints. People thanking me for writing – something I need to do, just like breathing.
I love this community; I love the area. But I just couldn’t continue at the newspaper (and the one other lead didn’t pan out – lack of vision – but that’s OK too, since things happen for a reason).
And that maybe fate has a hand in things.
To return to the Midwest, my roots, to do what I do best.