Lunch with Mom and Gram before I leave.

Gram has always been insistent that you should never "Say goodbye." I learned this at a young age when I was sad to say goodbye to visiting relatives from Ireland.

Me(age six): Then what do you say?

Gram: Just say 'See you later.'

Me: But what happens if a person dies?

Gram: You will see them later. Just in heaven. There is no such thing as goodbye.

I guess morbidity runs in the family.

Last night was my farewell show in Chicago, followed by drinks with friends to say goodbye.

I've had the pleasure of being on a few great teams while in the city, but my favorite and longest lasting team has been Cowlick. We are now more than an improv group, we're pretty much family. And just like family, we have some dysfuctions (or functions?) one of them being unrelenting sarcasm and prodding to show our love.

In February Cowlick went to the Dirty South Improv Festival, one of our many vacations together. After the plane landed we got our rental car, dropped our stuff off at the hotel and went to get something to eat. Of course we could not decided on anything, ended up driving around for a while, getting cranky and finally chossing some random bar. As we are walking in, BJ (not pictured, that is Martin another Cowlicker) opens the door for me, looks at me sternly in the face, and in the meanest was possible simply says:

Hey Sarah. Nice Sweater.

I'm so taken aback at how rude it was that I proceed to tell everyone at the table what he said and how mean it was. BJ pretends that he actaully meant it, and re-enacted it as though it was a compliment. I'm then told that I'm too sensitive.

BJ did not admit to the fact that he was a complete jerk for a month. A MONTH. But he finally did, and "Nice Sweater" became a way to tell anyone, namely me, to shut up if they were being annoying, or at me cause I'm easy to get a rise out of.

I'm aware that these kind of stories are not really interesting to anyone but the participants. These are also the kind of long running jokes that feel like the kind of shared silliness only a family can enjoy. Always out of comraderie, and never out of exclusivity.

Cowlick is the scarecrow, who I will miss most of all.

The majority of today was spent packing the last of my things and storing some stuff at my Aunt Julie's house in the suburbs.

Julie: What do you want me to do with your stuff if you die?

Me: Sell it on E-bay.

Julie: Ok then...(laughs nervously)...Don't die.

Went out for drinks with the girls from the Salon, Job #2, after my last shift.

This is Joyface. Simply named because she is always smiling, laughing, or genuinely enjoying herself. She's even cuter when she's mad. On this night she wanted to show off her sad face, which we rarely see. And of course, it's adorable.

Joyface: I don't believe you're leaving. I feel like you'll just split in two and one of you will still work at the Salon and the other will be in Boston.

Last day of work at the Dr.'s Office, one of my two jobs.

When I moved to the city 5 years ago the Dr.'s office was my very first "real job." After a couple years I decided to pursue the acting career again, and had to quit to free up my time. The Dr. was very happy, knowing the job was not a career and that I was finally pursuing one.

When I got hired by the theater in Boston I stopped by the Dr.'s offce to tell him the good news. As it turned out he needed some extra help for a couple months and asked me to work for him again until I moved.

In retrospect, that was the best job and kindest boss I've ever had, and it felt good to be sent off again by someone who was always in my corner even if it adversly affected him. So I left. For the second time. And the Dr. was very happy.

Is the crime rate in Boston higher or lower than Chicago?

I suppose these are things a person should look into before they move.

In 7 days I'll be in Boston. Aside from a brief stint in college I have never lived anywhere but Chicago, or ever really travelled much.

Missing my family and friends will be a given once I am gone, but lately I have been thinking about certain things I will miss that I can't anticipate. Places, people, things that will no longer exist, even though their existence seemed minor in Chicago. Obviously I can't see them yet, but I will soon. Not knowing makes me feel out of control. Like waiting to get hit by a bus. You know it's going to happen, but you don't know when, and it's probably gonna hurt.