6h • General discussion
How Sure Are You
How Sure Are You
By Kathleen Tonn
I sat at my desk making travel plans. My “to do” list was nearly completed. My passport was up to date. My vaccinations are current, including my tetanus shot. My travel funds were put in an international bank. My home was sold. My car was sold.
I would board the plane with a brief case and a small suitcase. I said good bye to my friends knowing we’d stay in touch despite the ocean separating us.
I am starting over abroad. It took ten years of soul searching to arrive at that decision. It was also fomented by the economy. The corporation I worked for said to me, “Hayden, AI is taking over your role. We appreciate all you have done, but we must move forward technologically.”
I wasn’t alone. My whole department received their pink slips. The anger and frustration my coworkers experienced was disturbing. Some were single parents, and some were single wage earners. Bottom line, they had children and aging parents to look after.
It stunk.
I requested the corporation to give my coworkers my stock dividends. I had fifteen years of accrual which amounted to twenty-five thousand dollars. I figured that would help my five closest associates. I instructed the human resource department to keep that donation confidential.
I was to catch my plane to Brussels at one a.m. Before doing so, I was going to have dinner with an old friend from college. We were meeting at the Olive Garden for a glass of wine and their delicious Braised Beef Tortellini.
I took Uber to the restaurant. The car’s windshield wipers worked furiously to clear the rain from the glass. The driver and I watched the sheets of rain smack the pavement as the raindrops bounced off the streets. Thunder and lightening pounded out a rhapsody overhead. It many ways, the storm was a perfect crescendo for an eventful American life.
The driver saluted me as I exited his Acura. Then, I ran towards the restaurant’s front door. The host offered to take my wet jacket before showing me to Dillan’s and my table.
Dillan stood up when he saw me. Happily, he stretched out his hand to shake mine.
“Hey man, have a seat. You look like you just got out of the shower,” said Dillan laughing.
“It’s a perfect storm just like when you and I were running the stairs at Auburn. That storm nearly killed us.”
Our red wine arrived quietly as my friend and I smiled at the attractive, petite server. After we tasted the port, silence fell between us. We had known each other since junior high. And through the years, we leaned on each other through our patents’ divorces, our own divorces and our parents’ deaths.
Then Dillan spoke, “Hayden, how sure are you?”
I looked at Dillan for a couple seconds before speaking.
“I am not sure at all. I just know I need to start my life over. There is a job for me in Brussels. I have no one here accept you. I wish you would move with me.”
Silence fell again.
“I want to go with you Hayden,” said Dillan matter-of-fact. “There is nothing holding me here after you leave.”
“Then let’s toast to us being ex-pats,” said Hayden with a big grin on his face.
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How Sure Are You
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