While our house continues to look more and more like a bomb exploded in each room, somehow boxes are getting packed, glasses are getting wrapped, life is getting lived, and time keeps moving.
We're officially 29 days (and counting) until we hand the keys to our landlord and move on to the big bad city of Chicago. And I'm scared. I'm scared that I won't get a job, make any friends, be able to walk in three feet of snow, survive the searing heat. Nothing that seems unsurvivable in and of itself, but when in a whirling combination of it all, it seems to press on me like a ten ton weight.
I am certain that I am moving, though, despite my fears. I'm giving up a job, friends, being close to family, a car, a garden, and lots of furniture. To move. And I couldn't be more certain that I am doing the right thing. The love of my life is on a path to achieve his dream and I can't wait to be next to him the entire way.
And really, what bigger adventure can a twenty-four year old have then to give up everything with the promise of gaining even more?
