March Transitions

Indeed, this March felt like a month of quiet transitions and small resets.

My job came to an end on March 30, and I am heading to my second river cruise on March 31. This blog is set to publish on April 1.

I began the month with a kind of spring cleaning, both at home and at work.

At home, I put away winter things. It felt symbolic — like saying thank you to the season and making room, just in case warmer days decided to show up. Unfortunately, it snowed all day on the first day of spring. By the last weekend of March, the cold wind made it seem as if spring were still hiding somewhere, hesitant to make its debut.

At work, I focused on tidying things up, tying loose ends, and bringing order to tasks that needed closure. I am grateful for my supervisor’s positive performance evaluation, and also for the many wonderful colleagues I met along the way. I organized one last dim sum gathering — there were nine of us. I exchanged contact information with several people and felt the support that is especially meaningful at times like this.

March 25 was my last working day in the office. I noticed mixed feelings settling in — familiarity, nostalgia, and uncertainty all at once. This was a place I had grown used to over the past two years. Soon, after returning my laptop on March 31, I won’t have access to it anymore. It feels strange to close this chapter, even as I know it’s time to move forward.

This month, I also tried to be more intentional about taking care of myself. I booked a massage, a facial, and a hairdresser appointment — simple acts that felt relaxing and reassuring. For the massage, I returned to the same place I had visited once in 2023, using a birthday gift card from my daughter. The experience felt just as refreshing this time, even without a long bubble bath. It reminded me how necessary it is to pause and reflect.

March was filled with meaningful moments of connection. I spent time playing cards on the weekends — three times this month at my home — which became a simple but comforting ritual. I also organized our monthly dinners twice, knowing we’ll be away for the first two weeks of April, and made several trips to Haidilao for hot pot, something I only became fond of since this February.

Dining out with friends continues to be one of the small but steady joys in my life. These shared meals and conversations reminded me how grounding it feels to slow down, laugh together, and simply enjoy being in each other’s company.

March also marked a few new things I tried.

• I visited the Canadian Centre for Architecture and saw an exhibition on how modern Chinese architecture took shape. Thanks to Montreal’s library program, “Rent a museum,” I was able to go for free. There was even an unplanned concert — also free — because it wasn’t fully booked at the last minute. It turned into an unexpected hour of classical music.

  
  

• I also tried pickleball for the first time. It was harder than I thought, but fun to learn a new sport. I still prefer badminton, a sport I have been playing since around 2010, if not earlier.

  
  

• I played ping-pong in a friend’s condo, where the living room had been thoughtfully transformed, and I was impressed by the change. Afterwards, we visited the Biodome and watched the penguins relaxing in their man-made icy habitat.

My bags are packed for my second river cruise in Europe. Last time, it was along the Rhine; this time, the journey continues along the Danube.

On my last day of work, March 30, while working from home, I received a heart-warming electronic farewell card signed by 15 colleagues. As I read through each message, I was touched by the kindness, sincerity, and appreciation expressed in their words.

Feeling grateful, I wrote a group thank-you note in return. I also expressed my sincere thanks to a few colleagues through emails and Teams calls. It felt like a meaningful and fitting way to close this chapter.

As March is coming to an end, here is a gentle reminder to myself:

I am letting go of a familiar chapter through a series of small acts of care and closure.

I allow myself to hold both gratitude and uncertainty at the same time.

“Transitions are the bridges between where we were and where we are becoming.”

Image credit: ChatGPT