The End of an Era.... Almost

Despite my best intentions, I did not blog over the holidays. I thought I would have lots of time to dredge up memories of Christmas two years ago, when my husband -- then fiance, but not quite roommate -- left my parents' house early so he could get back to "the office." Code, I was later to learn, for The Other Woman. Or of last Christmas, when, as a newly-minted husband, he decided he was not up for a trip north, and let me travel home alone. The Other Woman was out of the picture by then, but it was pretty nasty to spend "our first Christmas together" apart. Never again, I told him.

So this year, despite living many miles apart during the week, we spent Christmas together. We exchanged our presents at midnight on Christmas Eve, and had Christmas dinner at his brother's house the next day. We gave over-indulgent gifts to his kids in front of the whole family so they could all see what generous and loving parents we are. We even made a quick swing to the not-so-frozen north to see my family and engage in a little New Years revelry.

And in the blink of an eye, it was over.

Almost like my time in the small town.

As I type, three burly guys are crating our belongings. Tomorrow, they come back and load all these boxes on a truck. On Friday, we follow our stuff up the road to the big city. If all goes well, I will spend this weekend unpacking. Anticipating the life of a commuter from another small town into the city I love, living the life I wanted with the man I love. Yeah, he accepted an offer and will be with me full time week-after-next.

Even as I watch the movers work, I still have a hard time believing that it's real. Any minute now, someone will pinch me and I'll wake from my dream and find myself back at my miserable job, in this miserable town, with a husband who would rather be any where but with me.

For once, I think my inner fatalist is going to be disappointed.

Happy New Year,

The Wife Who Knows