The day is here and the only thought going through my head is, what am I about to do? The answer should be obvious, but for some reason is not so much for me. The logic all fits, so why do I feel like my heart is being ripped from my chest? It's not as though I haven't done this at least 7 times before.
Tomorrow morning, Sarah will get to work and she'll see this post- funny as she and Manny are probably the only two reading this- and when I talk to her later she'll ask me if I'm ok, and I'll say I'm fine. I'm tearing as I type, like I'm never going to see them again, but this isn't true. I'm already planning a return for Labor Day weekend.
So why does this feel so wrong? I'm sure that this is just doubts about making such a drastic change. I've been repeating to myself- this is not an irreversable move. But coming back isn't like pressing ctrl-z to undo your move in spider solitair.
I just hope that this is for the best, that maybe it's in my cards to do this and I will be a much better person for the experience. It's not even as though I'm going there with no plan and no money- I've got those, and I've even got a few people that I know up there.
So, the car is mostly packed and, of course, I didn't fit everything in it. I'll have to have Sarah ship a few boxes to me, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. I have blocked my back windows, highly illegal, so I'll try to repack a bit better in the morning. But it'll never be right- I can't fit everyone and everything that I love into a two door Tercel.
I guess that, for those of you who know and care about me, I want to say that there's no need to worry- I will be fine. I will miss everyone terribly and I will come back to visit.
My home and heart is always open to you, though I'm an absolutly horrible pen-pal.
CSHL- Sunrise, Florida, United States of America
