Preparing to Leave a Place I’m Still Falling in Love With

There is something strange about realizing you’re in your last month somewhere — especially when that place still feels like it’s unfolding.

I’m not leaving tomorrow. I’m not packing boxes yet. I’m still going to class, meeting people, riding the tram, walking my usual routes. And yet, everything now comes with a quiet awareness: this is one of the last times.

The last month doesn’t arrive all at once. It creeps in gently.

It shows up when someone asks, “When do you leave?”

When you hesitate before buying something because you don’t want to carry it home.

When you take a longer look from your balcony than usual.

Living While Letting Go

Right now, my days feel full in the best way. I’m still observing classrooms, still having conversations with students, teachers, and women working in STEM. I’m still learning — maybe even more intentionally than before. Knowing time is limited has sharpened my attention. I listen more carefully. I ask better questions. I notice small details I might have rushed past earlier.

At the same time, I’ve started preparing — emotionally more than practically.

I’m thinking about what I’ll carry home with me that isn’t in my suitcase: perspectives, relationships, moments that shaped how I see the world. I’m realizing that preparation doesn’t always look like planning. Sometimes it looks like sitting with gratitude and letting yourself feel both fullness and sadness at once.

The Weight of “Lasts”

There’s a particular weight to “lasts” that I didn’t expect.

Last language lesson.

Last spontaneous tea.

Last walk through a familiar neighborhood where strangers now feel familiar.

None of these moments are dramatic. They’re quiet and ordinary. And that’s what makes them hard to hold.

I find myself wanting to freeze things exactly as they are — not because everything has been perfect, but because it’s become mine. My routines. My places. My people.

Gratitude, Complicated and Honest

As I prepare to leave, gratitude is the dominant feeling — but it isn’t simple. It’s layered.

I’m grateful for the generosity I’ve been shown. For the people who welcomed me into their homes, classrooms, celebrations, and conversations. For the patience extended to me as I learned, asked questions, and made mistakes.

I’m also aware that leaving is a privilege. I get to carry these experiences forward while others remain here, continuing the work, navigating the systems, living the realities I’ve only stepped into temporarily.

Holding that awareness matters to me.

Still Here

What I keep reminding myself is this: I’m still here.

There is still time for conversations, for learning, for showing up fully. Preparing to leave doesn’t mean disengaging. If anything, it asks for deeper presence. To resist the urge to mentally pack up early. To stay open until the very end.

So this last month isn’t about closure yet. It’s about attention. About gratitude. About honoring a place that has changed me — even as I begin to imagine what comes next.