It's 6:26 a.m.
The car is packed.
I should take a picture, it looks so purty.
The house is a disaster.
I should take a picture, it would teach me a lesson.
Everyone is asleep and I am wondering...
Why am I going away?
I could stay home and clean, start over on my doll quilt (which is being difficult.)
I should file, sort, unpack, sanitize, come to terms with the fact that I really do live here.
Sometimes people come in our house and tell me it's 'wonderful' and I wince.
They say it's 'so spacious' and I sigh.
They say it's 'really nice' and I protest.
I tell them, "We're just renting it," deflecting all praise and encouragement, because I feel so
detached and apart from any ownership of this place, but I could say "thank you" and move on.
From experience I know that this trip will be a lot of fun and sometimes nerve wrecking (wracking? Which is it?)
I also know that when I start to feel homesick, like tomorrow morning, I will be missing Geoff.
Geoff and the cats, and the way our bed gets really comfy at 6:35 a.m.
Geoff the cats, our bed, this computer, Playstation 3 and the freedom it buys me from bored children.
When I get home I'll be a new woman, transformed and enlightened, full of fresh insight, inspired by hardship and brimming with new found skills. I will write a novel, paint great art, sew something endearing, capture the essence of life at its utmost, in digital photography. I will be a domestic queen and start up a lucrative enterprise.
It all sounds so wonderful, I can't wait to get started.
Time to rouse the children and hit the road.
Have a wonderful trip. I'll miss you.
Waving goodbye to my dear friend, Chica, who stopped by with her van full of cozy children and camping stuff, to drop off her sewing machine and delectable fabrics to help me with my quilt. Buon viaggio!
How is your eye? I look forward to reading about the camping road trip! Wah, too bad Geoff can't go with you guys. :(
I like your attitude! :)
Post a Comment