It's bittersweet, the taste of her lips still on mine. She has not even been out of the house for more than 10 minutes, and yet I wept. I don't know why. She will be back in three days, but for some reason it feels wrong, or yet the anticipation that it will feel like an eternity. I am so afraid of losing her, becoming an single parent, or worse yet, just becoming an individual again. For the many changes that have occurred over the last 365 days, they have been changes that have taken away my individuality. And yet when I look at my past, that is the one thing that I was so afraid of losing. Now, I fear it returning to me. Because my individuality would return in the wake of a giant loss of family; losing my wife and my daughter. I do not know if that irrational fear will ever leave my mind completely. It seems as if it lives in dark shadows, only showing its face at the opportunity of a loss of a loved one. The opportunity being, this time, on the road for 4 hours away from me, while she travels to St. Louis to work for a few days so that we can be more financially stable to move in a few weeks. She leaves me with Vivian, in order to pack and to watch over the house and the pets. She left. Only to return, my rationality reminds me; only to return in a few days. Calm down.
Anxiety has been a very close friend the last few days; sorrow also an acquaintance. I have been anxious because I walked away from my job for a new one; walked away from a contract that states I will now owe them $16,000 since I didn't stay for a year; because I will be walking into a position I know next to nothing about in an industry I'm almost completely new to (again). I am anxious because we will be leaving our house, our doctors, our way of life here in Illinois, our insurance, our security; all leaving it behind to face an unknown future. Facing an unknown place to live, unknown medical practitioners, unknown insurance, and an unknown way of life. Anxious because of the things I am not leaving behind but instead dragging them with me; a growing pile of debt that only seems to be amassing volume every week, every mile. Dragging it with me, it only picks up debris from the road, never erodes with the wear of time or effort. Alas, I am uneasy and sleep little.
Add to these feelings a sense of loss, albeit temporary, because she left with her mother only now twenty minutes ago. I have before me a large house to pack up, furniture to disassemble, large heavy things to lift and carry short distances. I have a list to complete, an infant to take care of, and six other furry souls to supervise. I look everywhere and see a task, yet I see no sense of urgency in me or even minor enthusiasm for completion.
I am tired. I am hungry. I am anxious. I am excited as well; to see my friends back in my hometown, to have a better quality of life that I know assuredly will come with living back in St. Louis. And to quit working at a high-stress, overworked, underpaid, third-shift job to work instead at a cushy, desk-height, underpaid, low-stress day job. And now, I am tired of typing. Off instead to go find a sandwich or something else to kill the rumble below my diaphragm.
