So Far Away

I've been pretty moody this for the last week or so. Alternately withdrawn, sullen and volatile. I thought it might have been my patience being tested at the job, that I might be beginning to see the signs of why there is such a high turnover rate of my position, where, at times, I'm playing nursemaid to the occasional trader with a warped sense of entitlement. While I'm sure that does play a factor, the job, for the most part, isn't that bad or too demanding. So what then? It occurred to me yesterday that for the last three weekends we've been staying in the town where we want to move to. Where I want to be. And it’s beginning to have an effect. We instantly relax when we see the little town’s water tower on the horizon as we drive in. The quiet weekends are filled with fleeting glimpses of a future lifestyle, a dangling carrot almost within reach but frustratingly just beyond grasp. And then, in an instant, we're back in the crowds, the noise, the overdrive. A constant sensory assault that leaves me ticking off the days until I can get out, get back. It's an emotional shift that can get overwhelming.

We’re settling in while we’re up there. We talk about what we would do with the home we're renting, if we really want to make a go for it, seeing the pros and cons of the house, talk about what we could do with each room, seeing the work there would still be to do on it, getting used to the noises it makes at night. We marvel at the size of the supermarket in the next town, enjoy the quiet morning walks to the local bakery or general store. Life isn't always a beautiful weekend morning, I know, but the longer we remain here I'm reminded of a very Beckett-like lyric from a Frames song: "Every dawn is another morning less..." Life can't be spent waiting for something better to happen (... or, uh, can it?)

The moving target is a moving target. And the questions grow the longer we remain. Yesterday I received an enigmatic job offer at the place I’m temping. Last night we had to turn down a great apartment upstate. We’re wondering if we should make an offer of a longer-term rental of the house we’ve been staying in, if the owner would be agreeable. How soon do we really think we can be up there? How long can I last down here before I’m totally unbearable to be around? These all require decisions, and a factor in all the decisions is what do we do about New York. We just need one domino to topple but we don’t know which to push first.

Change isn't easy and these huge life changes are harder than I thought they would be. I've also noticed it's getting harder for me to go to the place I want to be. Well, not harder to go. It gets harder to leave, rather. Because every day here is another day less there. And it's the waiting, for Godot to come or that first domino to fall, that is the hardest part of all.