You leave not with a grand exit — a clear resolution to the problem of contingent labor in religious studies — but with repeated sighs of frustration (and private rants to your beleaguered partner). Your exit from the task force you were asked to lead in your disciplinary society is a gradual one. It is a slow goodbye. (You hate slow goodbyes.) You realize that you started to imagine your exit strategy not long after your entrance. That is never a good sign.
“Loss kicks us in the teeth when we least expect it to. Grief sticks with us. It clings to us, even as we try to move on. I found myself craving coffee, so I had a cup.”