m, m,

While you’re off in Seattle hunting down sparkly vampires, and not ways to kill them – okay, I get it. You’re a Slayer buff. But seriously, my instructions were pretty specific. I’m looking for an Edward type, standing amongst the piney forests, and sending this picture instead is really unacceptable…

Anyway, I’m at home, enjoying the company of J.Lo, who departs on his journey next week and will be gone during the work week, away, until such time that we sell the house. Although pasta can be eaten every night for dinner – or even ice cream! wine! – and rom-coms can be watched whenever, it’s all seeming pretty grim. 

Whenever I think of moving, I can hear the roots of a tree ripping out of the ground. It’s slow rip, paused occasionally to shake off dirt and just long enough to make one wonder – are we really transplanting? It’s not too late to shove the tree back in the ground, right? It’s grown so well here. But another small rip immediately follows to remind. Stuff, packed. Yard sale items – sold, donated, gone. Work, complete. Volleyball – goodbye. Happy hours and backyard barbecues – friends seen for maybe the last time While We Still Live Here. We know it’s farewell for now and not goodbye, but it’s still a tearing away from what is known, what has worked, what is loved.

And I’ve got Stop this Train running through my head, because obviously a big life change begs the questions of mortality. And how life just races on, done and gone too fast.

See once in a while when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
'til you cry when you're driving away in the dark.

Singing stop this train I want to get off and go home again
I can't take this speed it's moving in
I know I can't
Cause now I see I'll never stop this train

But while we roll on – I just hope we’ve picked the right route.

Fare thee well, my traveling friend. I certainly hope you have the Internets while you’re away.

xo,

pen