The Last Days

I know at one point tonight I was asleep. I'm not sure which. However, I am pretty sure the point in which I woke up was when My Better Half came in to bed after readying our ipod for this weeks cross-country adventure, saw the dog and broke down. It is now 3:30 in the morning. I've been up since 2. In approximately 4 hours I am to drop Elder off at the repair shop for an oil change and an air conditioner fan motor...thingy. Approximately 1 and 1 half hours from that the rescue shelter in which we've entrusted our precious Clementine, is coming to retrieve her. Somewhere betwixt Elder's and Clementine's appointments I must retrieve my children from their impromtu sleepover at the Dayton's so as to say goodbye to our family canine and also our home. It is finally here. Just some sweepage and wipage of the joint and we are on our way. I don't really know why I am crying at this point. I cried--for days, I might add--when I had to move to this "God-awful" place, remember??? What is the deal??? I better compose myself before my tears create more water damage in My Better Half's computer. He might not be too happy about that, especially considering he just got it back this morning. Anyway. Change is hard. I've never liked change. In fact, I am down right terrified of change. Change should only be something loose that you find in the pocket of your jeans or unexpectedly in the couch. That is good change. The other kind always makes me cry and worry if we've made correct decisions. Fear of the unknown, I guess. Fear of unforseen elements. When Thing 1's development in my womb had reached the point where it was worthy of comments like, "Lady, you are having this baby to-day, aren't you?" (Ha Ha. No actually. I have 4 more weeks, you sensitive male. Are you saying I'm fat?), I remember these distinct, slightly disturbing, thoughts in my head: "Oh dear, Ab, what have you gotten yourself into? What were you thinking??? You weren't. And now you're having a baby. You have to have this baby. It has to come out of you. There is no turning back. You can't woose out, fake an injury so you don't have to perform labor. Hide. No. You have to give birth to this...thing." I am not exactly sure why this is relevant to the situation. Perhaps it is because I've reached this point in our move. There is no turning back. Perhaps is it because My back hurts so bad from all bending and lifting that is entailed in moving that it feels like I am going into labor. That is also a viable relevancy. I guess, what I do know is that I am truly going to miss this place. Place meaning our apartment, and its early 20th century fabulousness and location, but mostly dirty, gritty, real, diamond-in-the-rough Buffalo, NY. The 198. Our Ward building that is painted like a fast food joint (then you realize it has a steeple, so it isn't. Then you notice the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints sign and think, Huh. Wierd. They don't usually look like that.) that resides across from the Catholic projects. Mayor Brown and the amount of times he says the phrase City of (or people) of Buffalo, EVERYTIME he is on the news. Our friends both student and non. The accent (oh how I'll miss the accent). Hertel. Shopping at the garage, the estate, or the curb. Man I have loved this place. Who knew? And now we are leaving it. Who knew? Pray for us in our new adventure, most especailly that Elder has the estimated 6000 miles he has planned for him this summer, but also for Clem that she will be happy and healthy and not miss us like we will miss her.


Over and Out,
Former Soldiers