I've heard tell of a rather disgusting tradition associated with fox hunting (as if there was any part of the concept of fox hunting that I do not find disgusting) wherein the person on his or her first hunt is decorated with the blood of their first kill. I would never, ever do such a thing literally, but I do sort of feel like I've just survived an epic hunt, and I should do something symbolic to commemorate my first kill. Rather than tear out a strip of fiberglass insulation to wear like a scarf, I'll stick with a smaller, less destructive memento. Over a celebratory dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in town, Mr X gave me a Pandora charm shaped like a house. Honestly, I had hoped someone would think of that for my first closing, and I am pleased as punch to get one. Much less sticky than blood or itchy than insulation.
There was a moment where my newness was revealed, but it went by unremarked on. I don't know how gauche it seemed to everyone else in the business who was in that room. My clients didn't say anything negative in that moment. We went to lunch together afterwards, and they didn't remark on me having a newbie slip-up. I don't know what I'll do without these people. I hope I see them again after this. They have been a part of my life for a year. I'm not ready to let go. Growing up is hard.
I had a few hours to coast before I had to go back to work in earnest. I sat in the hot tub, with the scent of the chokecherry tree in full bloom in the back yard. It looked like arboreal fireworks-- beautiful and smelled good at the same time. And before I could even make it to my dinner out to celebrate, I got a phone call from the next deal in the works, to roll on after the inspection this morning. After a year and a half trying to get up to speed in this business, and six years since my last paying gig of any kind, I'm okay with working through my dinner. This feels right.
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