The Christmas season ushered in a season of “lasts.” Over the holidays I decided to move to Nashville, partly for some professional opportunities and partly to be closer to family. Since returning to California, each day is part of a bittersweet countdown to my departure in March, and everything is a “last”—last trip to Disneyland, last Sunday at my church, last afternoon babysitting Miss It’s Not Pink (see November 28), last time cleaning cat vomit off my carpet here, last time elbowing through crowds of thousands to fly out of LAX…….actually, not all lasts are so bad.

Goodbyes tug at the sentimental part of me. People are often surprised at this—they see me as pragmatic and cynical, but like all true cynics I have a deep romantic streak. (As James Cozzens put it so well, “A cynic is just a man who found out when he was ten that there wasn’t any Santa Claus, and he’s still upset.”)

I know I’m also entering a season of firsts: first (and only) trip to Graceland, first Sunday at what will become my new church home, first new friend, first time cleaning cat vomit off my new carpet. And I’ve moved enough to know there are good people, good experiences, and good memories to be made in my new home.

But for just a little while longer I’m going to soak up the “lasts.” Although I will not be leaving from LAX.