I Swing Big

Whoever said "you can't go home again" was brilliant.

I went to Baltimore today -- though not the first time since I left. It was still an odd sensation driving on the highways, strolling around the ballpark, and walking up the spiral stairs to the third floor of the Birthplace, back up to where I used to work.

Tiffany and I drove up to Baltimore for the day, and visited my old workplace and its new expansion site and had lunch with Morty. And while I breezed through it last month, this time I was really able to take the new place in. Objectively, there were things I liked and things I didn't. I made a mental list and also shared them with a former co-worker. I knew that sharing them meant nothing -- but as a former museum geek, I felt it was my duty to.

Morty told me that he had run into Mike on his way over to meeting me. He had asked about me and said that I "helped him out five years ago when she came on board." Just five years ago, not any of the time after that until I left, apparently. Or maybe I'm being overly sensitive. I knew that I should go over and see him, that it would be the right thing to do. He was once my boss, also once my friend and sometimes confidante.

I was apprehensive walking up the stairs. I so didn't want to run into Bitch-stine. And, honestly, did I really want to see Mike? Admittedly, I did. I walked into his office, all smiles and sunshine, hugged him and sat for a while. My life is wonderful, work is great, you need to do something about the sound at Camden Station, and it's really hard to read some of the label copy. It all came out at once.

He immediately got defensive (as I knew he would) -- everyone's raving about it, he said. I'm sure they are. I backtracked -- told him what I liked, what I loved seeing, and again addressed the issues that I thought still needing tweaking. He took it better the second time.

I managed to leave without seeing Bitch-stine -- heard her craggy voice, but never even looked towards her office. Tiffany thinks she walked by another office when I popped in to say hi. (for background on her, see my post from 7/28.)

It was healing, I think, to go back. The birthplace looks run down, old, not so bright -- and Mike looked old, and told me he was exhausted with no rest in sight. A year and some months later, my decision to leave "the perfect job" was even more cemented in my mind as the right thing.

I did my time there. I accomplished a lot -- helped the museum grow and the museum helped me grow. Even if Mike still feels that I deserted him, I know it was the right thing to do, the right time for me to leave.

Maybe some day he'll realize that. If he does, will he ever tell me? Probably not.

But after this last visit to the place I called home for almost five year, I finally know that it doesn't matter anymore.

I know it was right -- and at the end of the day, that's all that matters.