Until The Final Farewell

It's drawing closer so suddenly. I can feel my time here slipping away through the cracks in my fingers, like little grains of sand. The world is one great hourglass. It's moving so slow and yet so fast. If I take the time to wrap my mind around it, I'll become dizzy, breathless.

I'm ready for this. And yet I'm not. I'm excited, and yet I'm terrified. I'm on the cusp of holding what it is that I've always wanted--freedom, for Chris and I. For those of you who are in the dark, Chris and I are moving to Michigan in two weeks. He's going to finish pursuing his bachelors degree and I'm going to pursue my Masters in Communications. In doing so, we'll also be moving to a place where we can finally afford to be on our own. In doing so, we're going to lose our safety net.

Each time I've left California or Michigan in the past, I've been so definite and confident in my decision. I boast of no-win scenarios, and yet I've always been thoroughly convinced that I'm one-hundred percent in the right.

I don't know what's changed this time, except to say that during this past year and a half, I've grown up more than I have in my entire life.

I've become engaged out here, adopted my cat (who is the animal love of my life, sorry kitty, can't compete with Chris but you're doing a good job), first become a published writer, and beaten my record for what I thought I was capable of writing in the briefest amount of time. I've made and lost friends. People say that it's essential to hold onto friends forever--I'm in full agreement of that, but I've learned when it's time to let them go and pray for them, not just for the sake of their happiness but that they'll come back to me someday. You can't pick all your battles; heck, some days it feels like you can't pick any of your battles. But you can always pick how you react to them. You can let someone ruin your day by cutting you off, being rude, or you can smile. It's damn hard to be able to smile and move on, especially for someone like me, who's so fond of blending pessimism and optimism with sayings like, "It could always be worse", but the truth is, it can always be worse. And I do spend too much time contemplating how it can be worse.

I will always think especially of Oceanside as my home.

I will forever miss my coworkers, past and current, and the animals I've cared for.

What's changed?

Knowing that so long as I'm here, it feels like it'll take a miracle for Chris and I to afford to be on our own and have the lives that we want. Knowing that my where I'm happiest is basking on a lake, or in a forest, watching the snow come down. It engulfs the world in such beauty that I find it almost impossible to accept that those flakes could just fall at random. I've seen artists at work, watched their magical hold they have over the canvas which I can only relate to the way I shape and form a story in my mind. How they transfer it over onto paper, though--that's where they lose me. I can never understand that, and as much as I'd love to, I probably never will.

But getting back to it, the schools we want are out there as well.

If possible, before I go, I'd like to see people. My finances are laughable, but if we can make it happen, then I'd love that. Let me know as best you can. Until my final farewell from California, I'll try to make the most out of it, in both figuring out how to accept the resolution of this chapter of my life and preparing myself for all the incredible things to come.