An Udderly moooooooooooooving story

Well, folks, it has happened. I retired on Friday. Although I had been looking forward to this great date for months, I was rather sad when the day finally arrived. I will miss my oldies, all those gossipy old girls telling hair-raising stories and enjoying a good giggle and naughty jokes, and those sweet old men, who hardly have the strength to stand, but insist on opening the door for me and kissing my hand. I will miss those who always sing the same, sweet Russian melody, because it's the only thing in life that they haven't yet forgotten. I will miss those who always dolled themselves up, day for day, telling me that there was a lot of competition about. I will miss those who always smuggled some food from the dinner-table to their rooms, *just in case*. They all knew what is was like to survive on scraps during the bad times of war, those hungry times where they never knew when they would get something else. I remember a lady called H., now some years dead, who survived 7 concentration camps and seeing her 2 year old son shattered to death in front of her eyes, who always said, *I knew I would survive, because my name means life, and somebody has to tell the story*. Some of our residents were depressed, often cried - they really had a reason, too - others were always happy and smiling and full of kindness. Each of them was different, had another story to tell, and the majority of them had endured at least one hell in their lives. I will miss them all, cherish the memories of those who died, and try to remember the difficult ones with kindness, too, then I know what a lot of them have been through.
I will miss my nice, fun-loving and hard-working colleagues, and wish them strength to carry on with their work. Perhaps I won't miss the bosses so much, but I wish them well, too. And I wish the secretary a kinder tongue and fewer bitter words for the colleagues who occasionally have to dare to disturb her work (which is of course, always top priority!). I will need a few weeks to get used to not being there. I can go there anytime and visit my oldies and colleagues, but I think I need a time to get used just to being me again. When I came home on Friday evening I was very sad, and my friends from the scrap booking forum on Dc were waiting for me, took time to dry my tears and make me laugh again, and Maria sent me this wonderful card, *I've herd you are retiring*, which really did put a grin back on my chin. Thanks, too, to Alyson, who also sent a wonderful card, and for the many mails with good wishes for my *new life*. Now that I will not be working anymore, I will have time to do things that matter, like crafting, reading, like living, just for me!