The Official End

I don't live in the small town any more.

I kept chanting that line like a mantra during my first commute, and it made the miles -- especially those where I didn't move very fast -- fly by. The movers came and went, our stuff made the journey intact, and my husband is back in the small town tying up his loose ends. I've got a few days before he joins me to work my way through the maze of boxes. There's no stopping me when I get on an organizational tear, so it's probably just as well he's not here.

As I look at the mess, I can't help but remember the last time I moved. What a difference two years (and professional movers) make... Despite my last post, things are very good between my husband and me right now. Other than some general dismay that he's still keeping The Other Woman on a string, I'm pretty happy with "us." I don't know if it's me -- if the craziness of the move or my general euphoria at being back in the big city has smoothed out his rough edges -- but I swear it's him, too. There's a lightness about him that I haven't seen since we first started dating.

When the movers called to tell us that the truck had broken down halfway, we used the delay as an excuse to spend the night at a little roadside motel that we'd been joking about since the long-distance days of our courtship. A throwback to the golden age of mid-century motor travel -- I don't think the owners realize how retro-chic their decor is, otherwise they'd charge a lot more than $45 for the experience -- this little motel put the perfect period on my time in the small town.

When the movers called the next morning to tell us that the repairs were going to take longer than anticipated, we decided to spend our free day -- before he had to drive back to the small town -- away from our empty house, exploring. We found the nearest grocery store, we figured out the quickest route to the Interstate, we stumbled across the most convenient dive bar with big screen TVs, and we discovered that the little convenience store on the corner carries the Sunday Times in all its glory. Mostly, we had a ball being in each other's company, enjoying a few hours without an agenda, something that hasn't happened in the longest time.

This new chapter is full of promise.


The Wife Who Knows