How in the heck did I ever manage to get down to a single month left in the U.S.? Actually, I’m closing in on three weeks, but who’s counting?
Here in Atlanta we’re gearing up for the big move. My mom is helping me plan what to stuff into a box that will become very first care package. (If any of you guys feel so inclined to send something my way, my new address is in a tab at the top of the page.) She’s also scouted out cute, long skirts for my newly modest wardrobe. I’ve doubled my skirt collection in a single day!
We’re also planning my going away party, set to take place three weeks from now at our local pool. I’ve never really had to plan a party like this because, well, I’ve never really gone away. It’s hard to imagine that as the guest list fills up, so does the list of people I’m saying goodbye to for a while. I keep repeating the mantra “it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later” to help keep myself calm.
I jokingly told several people that I wouldn’t start freaking out until I was under the month mark for departure. Well, here it is, and somehow I’m still holding it together. Not by much, mind you. If anyone in my vicinity cries over any subject, I’m tearing up. People crying on tv? I sniffle. Lately when I hear an especially good song in the car, usually about goodbyes, I’m set off. The other day I cried at Rocket Man by Elton John. Obviously, I am not a space cadet heading out on an important mission, but for some reason me and the astronaut met somewhere on the emotional plane. Somewhere between “holy crap this is not seriously happening” and “holy crap this is by far the coolest thing I’ve ever done!” I guess I’m luck to have family and friends that make me think more about the good parts of my new adventure than the bad.
On a less serious note, have you guys seen Dance Moms? This train wreck of a show is starting to edge out cheezits in the ‘things I will miss’ category. Not quite on par with nutella, cheese, or A/C, mind you, but it’s working it’s way up. Lifetime, you never fail me.