First to Go

Drew leaves tomorrow morning. In less than 10 hours actually. He is busy checking and rechecking and packing and repacking. And I am here. Watching as he checks and packs, occasionally offering suggestions, trying not to interrupt his groove. If he'd let me I'd pack every bag and go down the list and check and recheck. But this is his move and he has to do it. And so I sit.

Drew leaves tomorrow morning. With him, he'll take any illusions I had about some miraculous ending in which a Los Angeles studio calls and offers him a job on the spot, and we don't have to move after all. He'll take some of his things, his clothes, his toothbrush, and the other presence in a home that (much to my surprise) will turn out to be too quiet without the sound of Call of Duty in the living room.

Drew leaves tomorrow morning, and he says I'll hardly notice. That I'll be too busy with work and packing and wedding planning to miss him, and I'll be in Dallas before I know it and we'll be together again. He's right in that the next few weeks will fly by. But I will notice. In the morning, when there is no one to be quiet for as I slink around the room in the dark trying not to wake him as I dress for work. In the afternoon when I get home to find that the dishes are where I left them and there are no clothes on the floor. And at night, when I turn off the lights and curl up with....myself.

Drew leaves tomorrow morning. I'm going to go enjoy the last few hours we have together.

The First Wave

Drew is days away from his departure, and his impending trip has brought with it the first wave of goodbyes.

Friday night we had a fantastic get together with some friends at one of the old haunts. It was great to see all those faces. I tried my best to enjoy each moment with every single person, rather than slink into a corner to think about how much I want to stay behind and ensure this is not our last hurrah. And I did. I caught up, discussed, hugged, and photographed all our friends and lost track of time until last call. And despite our move being one of the evening's main topic of conversation I don't think I felt the familiar pang at its mention. At least not until we walked into the house and were immediately confronted by the sight of piled up boxes.

Sunday my family came over for lunch. As we fended off questions about cowboy hats and gun control, it occurred to me how much everyone's perceptions of Texas were based on the same stereotypes I'd based mine on. And how terrible they sounded coming out of someone else's mouth. (Note to self: rethink stance on Southerners. And East Coasters. And....well everyone.)

So the first round of goodbyes is over. And it was....tough. Although mine are still weeks away, I can't help but think how hard it will be when these meetings mean goodbye for me.

The Country

As a girl who's lived in big cities my whole life, I have to admit the notion of living in "the country" never occurred to me. I never bothered to define "the country." It was enough just to say that it was not for me, that I could not live there.

I lumped everything from the Carolinas to the "Deep South" together, picturing nothing but cows, fields, and illiterate cowboys. Not fair, I know. Deeply stereotypical and unjust, also true. But there it was, The South According to Sol.

You can imagine then, that I never in my wildest dreams pictured a world in which I lived "in the country." But alas, that's exactly what I'm going to be doing. About 6 weeks from now.

Drew has taken a job in Dallas, Texas, (thank you recession!) and since I've pretty much promised to love, cherish and follow him around the country, I'm going with. It's going to be quite the journey leaving my friends, family and home. And while it's not something I ever would have picked for myself, I'm going to go with this and see where it takes me. And despite myself, I'm even looking forward to this new adventure and all it brings with it.

This city girl is going country, and you're invited along for the ride.