Someone please push on the gas pedal.

I have never allowed myself to count down like I have this week.
And, as a result, life has never moved so slow.
13 more days.

It's not that I wasn't wracked with emotion to go through the process of leaving my students. It's just that at some point you embrace reality, and accept where this life is leading you. And maybe you even start looking forward to it. This last trip to California something happened in my heart, and emotionally, I left. To come home again was (surprisingly) frustrating. It was a very weird feeling, and one I was completely not expecting.

Part of it may be that we sold the house, and for some reason I feel like I'm cleaning up someone else's dust particles when I sweep it now. Brent took his State test and aced it, which means he's officially done with his training and into the new position at 100 miles an hour, and I also started team teaching with my replacement this week . . . which is an emotional place to be and I think rather than face it, I left all my emotions with Brent.

Also, everyone I know is pregnant. And inadvertently I'm avoiding all contact with those people. You'd think I would be bigger and stronger and kinder than that, I know. But honestly, I've been pretty big and strong and kind over a lot of things lately and I just don't have it in me to look them in the eye and talk baby news. Shoot me.
...
If I hadn't have had the miscarriage, I would be having a baby in just over a month. Which, in my most honest place, I admit would have been very stressful considering the move, staging the house and selling it on my own, saying goodbye to so many things and people . . . etc. etc. Of coarse we would have welcomed the bundle of joy, but I recognize that God may have had a little more insight than I did at the moment. Anyway. I guess today would be a good day to acknowledge that looking at my current situation.

Argh. So much easier said than done.

Two more weeks. Brent flies in on a one way ticket, and our new journey begins.