There's so much I want to say. Too much to share. All these little moments I want to remember. And I feel a bit overwhelemed at trying to figure out where to start. So much so, that I am no longer going to try. There'll be no recaps. Just life here and now, as I feel it.
Which brings me to today's confession.
Even though Joe has been home for just two days short of a month now. Even though we've been settled into this new Chicago life for three weeks now. Even though we're sort of settled into a routine. Even though I have my desk set up in the corner of my office, a bunny who likes to keep me company by visiting outside my window, and a tendency to drink too much water in an attempt to ignore the fact that the kitchen is way too close to my desk. Even though it's great having kisses anytime I want and someone to bake a cinnamon chocolate walnut mud cake for.
Truthfully, it still doesn't feel quite like it's my life. It doesn't feel real somehow.
Like I'm watching a poigant, bittersweet moment in a movie. One where the heroine is on the cusp of something life-changingly great but doesn't realize it.
Because, truthfully, as Joe once told me in the days before he left for the Peace Corps, "the mind just can't process the big changes as you experience them. You just get through and then think about it later."
And it's not until we get to later that we begin to understand the changes, that it begins to feel real.
Am I really that lucky? That I get to wake up to a kiss from Joe every morning? That I get to walk to Lake Michigan from my apartment? That I get to work from home everyday?
Yes, yes, yes, I am. Now, would someone just please pinch me so I can realize that this really is my life and not some incredibly surreal dream?