A year and eight months ago, I moved to small town Mississippi with no idea of what I was getting myself into. I knew I was going to be a photojournalist. I knew I was going to have a crazy schedule. I knew I was going to work holidays.

But I didn’t know a lot of things.

I didn’t know what it felt like to work a 16-hour day. (And then to be so proud of everything I accomplished in that day that the hours and exhaustion didn’t matter.)

I didn’t know what it was like to cover a fire, a wreck, a funeral, a murder, etc. (I wish I didn’t know what those were like, especially the last two.)

I didn’t know how much my co-workers would affect me. I didn’t know how much my photography subjects would also affect me. And I didn’t know how people would come to know me as the “photo girl” and would constantly speak to me, whether I was on assignment or simply buying groceries on my time off.

I didn’t know how sad/excited I would be to leave for other opportunities.

…

Yesterday was my last day at work, and it was weird. Weird because everything I did was the last time. Weird because I only received two hugs. Weird because my boss ran out to do something and didn’t tell me goodbye. Weird because I’m never going back.

Don’t get me wrong: I am over the MOON about starting anew in Nashville in TWO DAYS (!!!!!), but for now, reminiscing about my overall work experience and my final day is strange.

I have completed my first “big girl” job. The entire experience, the good and the bad, is behind me. I’m moving to a bigger city. I’m going to be able to spend time with my love and call my own shots now. But you better believe I’m taking the lessons learned here with me.

And for now, that is more than enough.