Today was my last day in Beach, North Dakota. I feel happy. I've never wanted anything more than to get out of here, and now I am. And there was even a beautiful sunset tonight, too. I take that as a good sign.

We went to Dickinson to get some stuff we need to move, like suitcases and stuff because we don't have a whole lot of suitcases. Then we came home and I had to cancel my bank account, quit my job, get my transcripts from school, and clean both my lockers out.

This afternoon was full of tearful goodbyes. I went to the store--which has been my job for four years already, and that was hard, because I've known some of them since I was a little kid. Jeff (the butcher) actually started crying. In my entire 18 years of life, I've never seen Jeff Roberts cry. Which says a lot.

Then Dolores started crying; she's been my boss for four years, and even though we've had issues, she's still a good person most of the time. That, and she's always watched out for me at work (most of the time)

Then, the worst goodbye of all. My uncle Gordie; my favorite person in the entire world. He still held me after projectile vomit hit him when I was a baby (from my mouth, of course) and he was there the first time I 'branded' a calf. He was there when my house burned down when I was 5, and he was there when his son, my cousin Cody, joked about burning down the chicken coop no less than a month after my house burned down. He was there when my grandparents died, he was there when my pets died. He's been there for everything in my life; he's more my father than my actual dad. He doesn't like to beat around the bush, so I walked in the house and put it all out on the table; that I'm moving tomorrow. He wasn't mad at me, or even upset. He just wanted me to make sure I stay safe, and that nothing happens to me bad. His next question was where the closest train station to where I'm going to be living is at. Then he hugged me. Keep in mind, my uncle Gordie is the strongest man I know; maybe not phsyically, even though he's that too, but mentally. I've hugged him before, but it was never a goodbye hug. I didn't start crying until he kissed my cheek.

In my 18 years of life, I've never seen my uncle even kiss his wife. I've hardly ever seen them hold hands or hug, either. And his own son never really got much affection out of uncle Gordie. And he's never kissed me before; not once. It's always been a comforting pat on the back, or a hug. Cheryl was always the one kissing my cheek. But tonight, uncle Gordie kissed my cheek and I lost it. Then he started crying, and it was a blubberfest. But it's not a permanent goodbye; he's coming out to see my graduation in June. And I'm s'osed to call him every week, and send him letters and postcards, as well as photos as often as I can.

And now I have to finish packing my room.