My first official day at my dad's was today. I woke up to apple cinnamon pancakes and a pot of coffee and the ability to hear bird calls. The sun filtered through tan canvas curtains in the second story bedroom my brother once slept in, and still had traces of his fingerprints, mainly on the back of the door which still holds a Native American poster with the cautionary tale of the Cree tribe. "Money cannot be eaten." Well, maybe it can, but it is probably not very good.
Today is April 2nd. If you ask the teacher me, there are 40 days of school left. If you ask Mr. Yo-Nau, there are 41 days until he packs up his Jeep and manifest destinies to Tahoe City. If you ask Mrs. Yo-Nau, there are 67 days left until I do the same. 2179 miles. 32 hours in current traffic. 6,250 feet above sea level. Everything about my next two months are made up of numbers. And I've always been terrible at math.
We said goodbye to the duplex we have called home for 27 months on Easter Sunday. I packed up the last load around 1 p.m. and left it in there until yesterday morning. After three days of packing, organizing, sorting, processing, I am left with a body and a mind that are beyond exhausted. It's like that whole body tired that not even coffee can fix. I need a few days of nothing.
I believe that I am transitioning well. From someone that is extremely uncomfortable at any sort of change, I've been okay. I was ready to leave our duplex and really okay with some change. But this dance we will be doing for the next two months will be rough. Back at our parents houses, stuffing our day-to-day lives in tiny bedrooms, juggling goodbyes to our families and friends while trying to find time for "us" and living on the other side of the country from each other for 26 days. Therapist says sometimes you have to go back in order to go forward, but going back to dating and living apart is throwing me off.
We had lunch today at Olga's and we met there in separate cars. So many great things happen at Olga's. Sharing a Snackers basket opens our brains. Or maybe it's the almond cream cheese?
"Let's talk about your job. What are the invasives in Tahoe? What will you be conserving?"
And I sat there and watched Paul talk about thistle and pine trees and I smiled and remembered why. I haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.
Oatmeal has his own room with a view overlooking a backyard oak trees and my dad and I made a potato pancake, lima bean, ham square salad dinner. We watched the Indians and ate pretzel chocolate and discussed guinea pig play house building. Spring Break will be over soon and life won't be this easy. It will be until July that the curtains in our bedroom will be our curtains. I don't know what any of that means, nor could I even begin to try or predict how anything further in my life will feel or how I'll react. Can anyone really do that? I don't know.
Here's what: things are changing and it's good and it's uncomfortable. I will go back to work at hate it sometimes. I will miss Paul. I will want to see my dad when I had a no good very bad day. None of that will change, no matter where I am. I am struggling to understand how to remember that small good things can add up to great feelings. Like how good coffee tastes when you really need it and how good the love of a very grumpy cat can make your day and write down your grandma's potato pancake recipe and take it with you and try not to screw it up. And buy socks with neon yellow toes and heels. They'll make you feel wonderfully nerdy.
I'm working through it. And in the mean time, look at this guy. He makes everything better.
Today is April 2nd. If you ask the teacher me, there are 40 days of school left. If you ask Mr. Yo-Nau, there are 41 days until he packs up his Jeep and manifest destinies to Tahoe City. If you ask Mrs. Yo-Nau, there are 67 days left until I do the same. 2179 miles. 32 hours in current traffic. 6,250 feet above sea level. Everything about my next two months are made up of numbers. And I've always been terrible at math.
We said goodbye to the duplex we have called home for 27 months on Easter Sunday. I packed up the last load around 1 p.m. and left it in there until yesterday morning. After three days of packing, organizing, sorting, processing, I am left with a body and a mind that are beyond exhausted. It's like that whole body tired that not even coffee can fix. I need a few days of nothing.
I believe that I am transitioning well. From someone that is extremely uncomfortable at any sort of change, I've been okay. I was ready to leave our duplex and really okay with some change. But this dance we will be doing for the next two months will be rough. Back at our parents houses, stuffing our day-to-day lives in tiny bedrooms, juggling goodbyes to our families and friends while trying to find time for "us" and living on the other side of the country from each other for 26 days. Therapist says sometimes you have to go back in order to go forward, but going back to dating and living apart is throwing me off.
We had lunch today at Olga's and we met there in separate cars. So many great things happen at Olga's. Sharing a Snackers basket opens our brains. Or maybe it's the almond cream cheese?
"Let's talk about your job. What are the invasives in Tahoe? What will you be conserving?"
And I sat there and watched Paul talk about thistle and pine trees and I smiled and remembered why. I haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.
Oatmeal has his own room with a view overlooking a backyard oak trees and my dad and I made a potato pancake, lima bean, ham square salad dinner. We watched the Indians and ate pretzel chocolate and discussed guinea pig play house building. Spring Break will be over soon and life won't be this easy. It will be until July that the curtains in our bedroom will be our curtains. I don't know what any of that means, nor could I even begin to try or predict how anything further in my life will feel or how I'll react. Can anyone really do that? I don't know.
Here's what: things are changing and it's good and it's uncomfortable. I will go back to work at hate it sometimes. I will miss Paul. I will want to see my dad when I had a no good very bad day. None of that will change, no matter where I am. I am struggling to understand how to remember that small good things can add up to great feelings. Like how good coffee tastes when you really need it and how good the love of a very grumpy cat can make your day and write down your grandma's potato pancake recipe and take it with you and try not to screw it up. And buy socks with neon yellow toes and heels. They'll make you feel wonderfully nerdy.
I'm working through it. And in the mean time, look at this guy. He makes everything better.