Today is my last day at the paper.
And it feels kind of weird, after almost three years in this endeavor: a whole new town, a whole new job, a whole new environment, and definitively, a whole new smell.
The opportunity I have in front of me is exciting, promising, and the offer is too good to refuse. Especially for Nicolás; at the end, he's gonna receive the greatest benefits.
We, the newsroom, are going to have a good bye lunch in a nearby Mexican restaurant, so I'll have to manage the picante, but it will be a great good bye. I'm sure of it.
So, after the deadline of this week edition, I basically have spent the time emailing my contact info to those that have been always on my side during these three years. Those that I want to keep in touch with.
And the desk looks weird when is so empty. I packaged all my stuff yesterday, so, this morning I'm working in a unusual cleaned up desk —for being a reporter.
But it's time to move one. And we need it.
MDH and I have always said we were born and started our life six years ago, when we arrived to the United States. That means we're are in a race against the clock that most people our age —with the advantage of being born here— don't even imagine.
We want the American Dream. That's why we need to go the whole nine yards.
And this is just another step. Another baby step that would help us to fill the gap.
That's why I also feel a sweet excitement. It's gonna be good.
It has to, because we don't have another thirty something years to waste.