Tuesday, May 15, 2012
on my big move...
This is my "I'm-trying-desperately-hard-to-not-freak-out-about-what's-going-on-in-life-right-now" face.
I'm thanking sweet baby Jesus that work is slow right now... the fact that two weeks from today is my last day here is really just sinking in. I have oh-so-much to do. So much. Like, so much, that even me, the list-making extraordinaire is steering clear of lists because I have no idea where to start. When I calm myself down enough to realize what I've already taken care of, I can breathe a little easier... I know my tendency to be dramatic is what is prevailing and overwhelming me right now, but thinking about packing up my house is pretty much the last thing in the world I want to do. Thankfully, I've basically packed all the knick knacks, the photo frames, the dishes that won't be used in the next few weeks. But I keep remembering yet another piece of vintage furniture I've acquired over the past few months and cringe. I know it'll all be fine, I know that. I just feel like I'm channeling all my thoughts and energy into anticipating the move--I have to consciously tell myself to enjoy the third-to-last Tuesday I'll ever sit at this desk, remind myself to go take lunch to my Pops, because the opportunities for our lunch dates are dwindling... I fear that I'm so wrapped up in the logistics of the move, that I'm sidestepping the emotions of a lot of this--but I also think that's my own little self defense mechanism: if I get wrapped up in all the to-do's, then I don't have to let my big, swollen heart ache to the point of driving even more tears to spill down my face.
The fact is, I have it so good. I have it so, so good. I have a cute, little house that is all mine. No roommates (just the puppy munches). My shoes left in the doorway, my cereal bowl in the sink, my chosen temperature on the thermostat, my baking at 1 am, my bills to pay. Mine.
My family is here. The people who know the good, the bad, the ugly... and love me anyway--they're here, so close to me--so close I can swing by my parents' house for dinner, or to do a load of laundry. So close that my Pops and I have at-least-once-weekly lunch dates. So close that I can drop my pups off to spend a weekend frolicking with their dogs while I trek elsewhere on random roadtrips. So close.
I have a fantastic job that I love. I love working at Baylor. I absolutely love what I do. I love the people I'm surrounded by... my work posse and I literally go to lunch nearly every day, get together during the weekend, text all hours of the night. I am so fortunate and blessed to call my co-workers friends.
I am warmly familiar with most everything around me... the buildings and highways, the stores, restaurants, landmarks, backroads and bars. I've grown up in this town--a quarter-of-a-century spent growing and learning in the places that have grown so memorable, with people who are practically physically connected to me. I can use the "I remember when..." line for more instances than most 26 years old, I'm sure. This is home. And home to me isn't a mere segment of my early life--home is in my bones.
Right before I moved to Alabama in 2008, I obsessively listened to "So Close Now" by Eli Young Band... the song chronicles a nagging, antsy feeling of escaping the monotony of a familiar place you've outgrown, yearning to breathe different air, mold a "real" life--and it concludes with the line, "I shoulda known how hard, it'd be to leave this town..." I felt the wave of all the emotions of that song in 2008, coupled with the exhilarating push of graduating college, eager to make my way in the world. Now, four years later, I'm feeling the waves all over again--so eager to forge my own path and build my life, but aching so badly for the things around me that make me, me. Torn, in a way.
It's not just a Texas thing. Don't get me wrong--and as cheesy as it may sound, Texas is in my blood. The vast, open fields peppered with lazy cattle, the big city lights, complete with bustle and noise, the history, the culture, the people--my God, the people. Texans are truly unlike any people I've ever known. The constant warmth, the ambition and desire for success, the faith in God and their fellow man, the passion for life. I am so proud to be a Texan...
But it's deeper than that. I know Nashville will fit me like a glove. Believe me when I tell you I am excited. So thrilled. I am so ready to see Sean every single day--so ready to end the cycle of plane rides and roadtrips. So ready to live in a place where we can jaunt out for dinner after 9 pm. So ready to have a menagerie of weekend activities from which to choose... I can't clearly enunciate how thrilled I am to live life in a place as charming and cultured at Music City. But, I can tell you that one of the most peculiar and bizarre emotions I've ever had sink into my bones, is the feeling of having my heart overflow, giddy with excitement and anticipation, while it simultaneously splinters into a million little pieces.
T-minus two weeks...