I’m a fan of the Irish exit. Grammarly tells me this term is outdated, so I’ll rename it as the vero exit. It’s my preferred method of exiting most locations and events, particularly parties and gatherings. The vero exit is leaving without saying goodbye. It’s really not that necessary to say goodbye.
It’s incredible how a mundane activity can carry so much weight and significance. Much like Eve from the garden of Eden, one of my issues can be directly traced back to picking fruit.
Stability has always been out of reach. I have moved to a new home more times than I’ve celebrated my birthday; I am more familiar with change than permanence. I feel at home when I’m on the road, and at peace when everything I know is being replaced.