(At least, in my mind. Always random lyrics floating around up there.)
But I lay here past 11:30 on a Tuesday night, unable to sleep — indeed, wide awake and razor sharp, feeling on the verge of big things happening.
Remember when you were a kid, having to go to bed the night before an airplane ride or Christmas morning or the first day of school: lying heavy in bed, equally exhausted and frantic from the in-between of being ready and anticipating the outcome?
Tomorrow is Holton’s last day of work. The 4:50am alarm; the 40-mile, 55-minute long morning commute (add 20 minutes in the afternoon); the desk job with few benefits and even fewer days off, will finally be history. (But so then will be the friendships and the paychecks, and both will be missed beyond measure.)
He doesn’t want me to see how worried he is or how hard he’s trying to stay positive and energized for what lies ahead. He thinks I don’t know he’s worried he’ll be long without a job once we get there, and how he thinks he will be letting me down when our customary lifestyle needs to change to ensure our success.
He doesn’t tell me that a small part of him wonders if the naysayers are right: this undertaking is uncertain, irresponsible, hurtful, and unwise.
His last day is the tipping point. It’s the no-looking-back, holding onto each other, stepping into the void. And I’m tired. Totally fried. Yet I’m on edge, wishing he wouldn’t just trade one burden for another — that of a thankless job for the one of unemployment. He shoulders the weight of the world every day so he doesn’t have to see me struggle. I don’t want him questioning if we are doing the right thing. I know we are.
Nine days from now, this house with its prep and planning, wishing and working, and this life where we met and started our story, will all be behind us. Challenges, questions, and responsibilities will remain, but so will the knowledge that in 21 years, we’ve never failed at anything. That’s not who we are.
I know this won’t be my last sleepless night. {insert a dad-variety Sleepless in Seattle joke here.} Eventually, everything is going to level off. I’m just hanging out at the corner of Weary and Frazzled until then. Come visit me. Bring wine.
The Top Left Corner Life 