I feel the need for a cliché or a Sound of Music sound bite, but I can’t think of one that fits.

As many of you may well have no clue, this is my last issue of the Powell Tribune. I am dusting off my belongings and heading for new pastures.

I can only hope they are a tad greener. But judging by this spring-to-summer transition, all the pastures will be the same luscious shade.

I digress. In my three years here at the Tribune and back in Powell, I have built and strengthened not only my relationships with old friends, but also with new friends, and especially with myself. I thank the ones who have tolerated my awkward personality growth spurt.

It has not been an easy three years by any terms, and I have come to realize that I want to circle back and follow a road I have ignored for the past 12 years. I know that is an odd thing for a young person to say, but having ignored myself for too many years, I need a change — a chance to listen to myself.

There is a glitch in the thinking of my generation. At some point, we learned that you have to sit at a desk with a computer to make a career. My ASVAB even suggested I be a graphic designer, though that was not even my intention while getting my journalism degree.

When analyzing how I spend my free time, I have remembered that, as a young teen, I wanted to pursue the field of massage therapy. This was in 1999 when my only concerns were homework and making jokes about Y2K.

The next year came, and I joined the yearbook staff. Since then, I have spent all but two years working on some sort of publication. One year being my sophomore year of high school and my other my junior year of college between The Northwest Trail and the Daily Iowan.

I am calling this my quarter-life crisis.

I had a tough spring and decided to go a new way. I have dealt with great losses and personal triumphs, colliding to increase my urgency in life. I hope to undo my codependency on things I cannot change and focus on my attitudes and my life.

Idle hands do the devil’s work, some say. Mine will be busy helping others deal with the tensions of life, while attempting to reduce my stress — at least that is the plan.

So, to all those who have generously helped me cover this great little town, I thank you. Thanks for not arresting me when I took pictures from the roofs of downtown businesses. Thanks for telling me how to spell your name, and sorry I kept forgetting. Thanks for all the compliments and criticisms.

Thanks to the few who have been there for me no matter what, and for letting me be there for you.