Letting go of the final research project for my degree feels like dropping my child off at daycare for the very first time. Nervously, I wonder how my child will be received--will she be welcome? Will she be accepted? My project feels very much like a child that I've nurtured, coached, and raised from infancy. Now my attention turns from the carefully crafted autoethnographic words to other projects and people. Those in academic land hold it and give a mark. The mark means something, but not everything. My senses live in completion for the moment and I simultaneously savour its departure and cry for its absence.
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