It didn’t hit me until I was talking on the phone with a friend a few days ago. At the mention of getting up one night before I left as I found myself explaining to him that I was leaving for Florida next Tuesday, then heading back to Alabama to visit Husband one last time, and when I got back there was only two weeks until I left. In other words we needed to make it happen…quickly.
Then I hung up and thought about what I had just said. Two weeks? Two weeks is nothing. And suddenly panic silently swept across me as I thought about the mountain of organizing left to do. The fact that even little things like my underwear were scattered over multiple locations we’ve called home in the past six months. And where were the USB drives that have so many of my files backed up? How on earth am I supposed to get all these little details sorted out…in two weeks worth of time?
And that’s not to mention last suppers with friends and family. The packing of enough clothes and belongings to get me through a few weeks until we are settled in our new home. Booking hotels for our 25 hour drive to South Dakota. And making sure to stock up on anything I think I can’t live without and won’t have access to once we get there.
There’s nothing like a simple statement of my schedule to really put things into perspective. I am essentially down to the last few weeks, and whether I like it or not it’s coming at me like a speeding train.
Emotionally I think I’m ready. I’ve really tried to soak in my time here with family and friends. I’ve allowed myself to let some responsibility fall to the side in favor of a spontaneous day on the town with one of my closest friends. I’ve tried to forget our bank account a few times, as the menu of a restaurant I’ve always wanted to try sits in front of me. In so many ways I am very ready for this.
But last night, inside my sleepy thoughts I pondered, maybe I’m not quite so ready as I thought. I haven’t really allowed myself to think about those last few days. About saying goodbye to everyone. About the physical act of driving away without any sure indication of when I would be returning. I haven’t thought about the collection of months that would pass before I would get to see any of their faces in person again.
No matter how hard you try to appreciate each moment, each experience, it is impossible not to take things for granted. You can’t possibly acknowledge each little comfort that makes your day, or your life, what it beautifully is. Those little things are the stitches that pull your life together, often unnoticed, often unseen, but without them it would all fall apart.
Today I’m wondering who and what will be stitching the pattern of our new life.