The last few days have been painfully exhausting. It feels trite and pretty lame to even complain, when I have friends going through real personal tragedies, worthy of exhaustion, upset, and pain. But I have to be honest and come forward with it. This has been straight up difficult.
You know things are going down hill when you start spouting out things like, ''I am over this" and my personal favorite "I'm done." This is a complicated one. You can say, "I'm done", but in reality, you totally aren't done. You might feel like you are done, you might wish with all your might that you are done, but if you still have 2 days left of work, then, you know what? You aren't done. You just have to keep going, even if you don't feel like it.
That's where I have been for the last 2 days. Saying I am done, when I am not, with miles to go before I rest. My ever expanding checklist (the guide to my sanity), was like a pair of rabbits. It just kept producing more and more, and the pages kept filling up. But I swear, it was the only thing keeping my head on straight, because I am telling you...there hasn't been a whole lot of anything fantastic going on up in that noggin of mine lately. Can we say, space case?
I have also been in avoidance mode. I want to avoid seeing people again, because if we already said our goodbyes, then it is finished, and I don't want to have to think about it again. This week, we said our family good-byes, our friend good-byes, our charter school good-byes, our soccer team good-byes...the list goes on. We drove down PCH tonight, so we could say good-bye to Sammy's (oh, please Lord, tell me Iowa has an amazing spicy pastrami.) I said good-bye to strips, and I savored my delicious sandwhich, and then we drove home and took in the smell of the bonfires. Since I have been in avoidance mode, I didn't want to really think about the fact this this was our last trip down this stretch of beach, for what could be a very long time. I have been avoiding the fact that it is very possible, we will never live right next to the beach again. Katelyn started to cry a bit, and said this would be the last sunset she would ever see. We reminded her that, although there is no beach in Iowa, the sun does indeed rise and set there as well. But I understood what she was saying, and it kind of felt that way to me too.
We said our good-bye to our best friends, and I tried to keep it together the best I could. When Luca and Katelyn lingered for an extra minute during their hug, I choked back what felt like weeks worth of tears. I felt like flashes of the last 5 years went before me. I saw the kids running around outside in their diapers when they were just 2 years old, I saw them making cookies together, I saw them playing on the beach together, walking through a stream in Trabuco together, camping together, sledding in the snow together, playing glowsticks on the greenbelt at night, picking pumpkins together year after year at Tanaka Farms, growing up together....I saw it all flash very quickly, and then I saw them say their good-byes. It seemed too hard to take, so I stopped, and reminded myself I needed to stay strong for the kids. I could have stayed their all night and watched those kids play. Some times, you want to stay frozen in a spot...you want to remember what it is like, and what it has always been like, and not forget. You want it not to hurt, but sometimes, that is too much to ask.
The good-byes to family are difficult to swallow. Thoughts that shouldn't go through my mind, but do, are the one's that make my stomach flip, and my heart start to pound. I pray for those thoughts to go away, because they are too much to bear in the midst of all this. I know the kids don't really understand, and it won't be long before they are asking to go to Grammie and Grandpa's house, or if Grandpa Tony can make them an english muffin with peanut butter for breakfast. Their world is so small, and I don't think they are capable of wrapping their minds around this one.
That is the end of this chapter. It has been a pretty wonderful chapter. It has actually been many, many chapters. Marriage, and turning 20, and turning 30, and having 3 babies along the way....all wonderful, beautiful things.
But a new chapter begins, and the excitement of that, dulls the sting. It is that excitement, that adrenaline, as well as faith, that comforts me, and helps me to know that what is to come, is going to be beautiful and wonderful too. All seasons come and go. Nothing stays the same forever.
Tomorrow morning, we wake up, load up the kids, and take off. What will that feel like? I just don't know. It might possibly keep me awake tonight. Big green is ready for this adventure. Every row has a cute little box, filled with new movies, and coloring books, and journals, and new crayons, and games, and snacks, a new toy, and school (we are traveling through 8 states, I think that is a pretty good time to learn about them, don't you?). Their little rows are so orderly and clean, and inviting. I know I am alluding myself by thinking it will look like that by the time we arrive. In all honesty, I imagine we will roll into our new town, kids in mismatched clothing, boxes and their contents strewn about, wrappers and fast food soda containers stacked high, big circles under our eyes.....but we will have made it! What an accomplishment. Will we be in one piece? Ask me again, a week from today.
"And if you never stop when you wave goodbye
You just might find if you give it time
You will wave hello again
You just might wave hello again
And that's the way this wheel keeps working now
That's the way this wheel keeps working now
You can't love too much, one part of it."
You just might find if you give it time
You will wave hello again
You just might wave hello again
And that's the way this wheel keeps working now
That's the way this wheel keeps working now
You can't love too much, one part of it."
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