It is easy to move, but why is it so hard to move on?

I'm moving on to bigger and better things. Then why the heartache? A cosy not-so-little suburb near Chicago was my home for the past four years. I loved it. The dreary gray winters, the searing summer heat, the incredible loneliness of saturday evenings....for some reason, I loved the place inspite of all these, and maybe even because of all these. Maybe it was the gorgeous forest preserves. The fact that you could truly live through the four seasons. Or the fabulous downtown area. Or the proximity to one of the most dynamic cities in the country.

Or maybe it was because of certain incredibly wonderful people. Who did not really have to love me. But did. And endlessly, unconditionally.

Ofcourse, as is expected of me, I will move on, going through the motions, making a new home in the land of sunshine and silicon. New friends, new job... the works. And obviously, Chicagoland and its wonderful people will move on too. Someone new will take my job. It will be business as usual.

But a little part of me will always be in the midwest, just like I left a little bit of myself in Madras. I will always cry a little for everything I left behind, everything that I loved and lost - the little birds that faithfully returned to my deck every spring and patiently waited till I filled the bird feeder, the lofty american flag just outside my window that I silently saluted almost every day, the forlorn howling winds from the lake that kept me company, the beautiful tree outside my house that was my barometer for the various seasons, the friendly indian grocery store where i bought 2 samosas as a guilty pleasure every friday, and last but most certainly not the least....my incredible friends who loved me endlessly and wished me only the very best, even as I chose to move on.