Almost Gone

Dear Jen,

I'm sorry that I'm leaving. It's messing everything up. How will our children be best friends now? Especially the babies. It all feels very inconsiderate of me. And anyway how come I have the right to choose to pull my children away from their loves and their lives, and everything that's familiar to them? It's cruel, and so very very selfish. Hopefully Ev will forgive me...

Should I bribe her with candy maybe?

But really I'm sorry that I'm leaving--making choices for other people's lives. Today I feel exhausted by moving. I've done it so many times before, and I know the drill: work. HARD work and isolation and confusion and unfamiliarity, and political correctness till your cheeks are sore from pretend smiling, and putting yourself out there and inviting countless strangers into your home and scoping every person you ever see for potential for friendship, and paying the government outrageous fees to change a little address on all your identification, and unfamiliarity and confusion and isolation and HARD work.

Two more days till I go. I don't even know how to deal with the two days. I still think maybe I can escape going. I sense that my illogical subconscious is working hard trying to figure out how to stay and go both at the same time. But in the meantime I try to put my head to the grindstone getting all those last things done, while at the same time struggling to enjoy the last moments of familiarity and fun. It's a challenging balance, and I don't feel like I am exactly succeeding.

I feel very sorry, entirely crazy, distressed, and guilty.

I vacillate a lot though, so tomorrow I expect to be excited and eager. Vacillation is wearing. Moves are wearing. Children are wearing. Clothes are wearing.

Or rather, I am wearing clothes.