It’s mostly sunny with a bright blue sky, fluffy white clouds, and cool breeze. Mt. Rainier clearly looms in the distance. The lakes are sparkling and dotted with sailboats.

This is the way I want to remember Seattle.

I turned in my pager a few hours ago and will be attending a commencement ceremony in a few hours. To be fair, graduating from residency doesn’t have the lustre of graduating from college or medical school. There are no mortarboards, no hoods, no parading around in black robes. We haven’t completed school; we’ve “merely” completed more training. My understanding is that there will be food, drinks, mingling, and some informal speeches.

Tomorrow morning, I hop on a plane and move to New York City.

People excitedly ask me if I’m excited.

Yes! Of course! I’m thrilled!

And I’m scared! Terrified! Anxious!

And very sad about leaving my dear friends and my life thus far in Seattle. While I can say good-bye with grace, it’s not easy to do so.

Though people may part, the relationships—dynamic things they are—continue. That may mean letters, phone calls, or maybe even a visit… and even if none of those, there are the memories of these individuals that carry forward. There are the phrases that I adopted from the speech of others, the way I teach and explain ideas, the comments that I will remember whenever I do something (e.g. “I will always remember you and your notebook, Maria… the way you randomly pull it out and scribble things down”), the priceless advice I have received, the bad jokes I have heard, the warmth in knowing that people care for you as much as you care for them.

There is more I can say, but I shan’t.

I’m going to miss you, Seattle. Thank you.