When I walked through the doors of The Herald-Whig for the first time, at age 19, I felt lucky to have such a fun part-time job while going to college.

I would be a news clerk, mainly working weekends, to rewrite press releases, type in obituaries, answer phones and other odd tasks.

I'd get a chance to meet real news reporters, editors and photographers.

How cool was that?

Little did I know that the cool part-time gig would become a treasured career spanning two decades. I would become one of those reporters, and for a time one of those editors.

But after 20 years, it was time for a change, a new challenge, and at age 40, I'll be walking out the doors for the last time tonight.

It's a bittersweet good-bye.

I'm extremely excited about my new opportunity to work as a communications specialist in the Public Relations and Communications Department at Blessing Hospital.

Still, it's not easy to leave this newsroom.

My Herald-Whig colleagues have become like a second family. In my "pod" alone, I feel like I have three older brothers who always seem to make me laugh. (And lucky for me, my real brother works in the same building, too.)

Of course I've got the rest of my newsroom family, whose friendships I cherish, and I remain close to several former co-workers who have moved on to other careers and other cities.

It's been a great 20 years -- but not just because of the people I've had the chance to work alongside every day.

In these past two weeks, after announcing my career change, I've received numerous well wishes and thank yous from sources I've worked with through the years. I hope all of them realize how much those notes and phone calls are appreciated.

What they probably don't realize is that I'm the one who should be thanking them.

They're the ones who put their trust in me to get their messages out, to tell their stories.

What a great privilege that has been.

I'll never forget the four Quincy families who opened their homes and hearts to me when I asked for their help in understanding what it's like to have children with autism.

Or the mother who lost her infant son to a little-known birth defect, yet showed great strength in turning her grief into something positive to help other parents and save other babies.

Or the myriad people fighting cancer and other illnesses, some with incredible stories of survivorship; others with heartbreaking endings.

Or the farmers and residents of the small river towns whose property was inundated with floodwaters, and the neighbors and strangers who pitched in to save the levees that remained standing.

Or the health and fitness professionals who make it their life's work to promote wellness, especially those who took me under their wings to guide me into a healthier lifestyle.

Or the medical mission teams who invited me to join them as they trekked to remote areas of the world to provide compassionate care to those who had rarely, if ever, seen a doctor.

These -- and many others -- are stories that have shaped me not just as a reporter and writer, but as a person. Many of the people I've written about have taught me and our Herald-Whig readers great life lessons.

They've touched people's hearts and perhaps opened a few minds.

And, again, I'm grateful to have played just a small role in that.