It's a bit unsettling when you find out that your husband is getting his own fancy apartment. It's weird to think of him paying rent on a separate home, sleeping on sheets I will never wash, while living in a place I may never see. A place that is not our house where we live, together. I've been replaced with a weekly cleaning lady so I think he's going to come home more spoiled then he left. I know it's because of work and is only temporary, but still. It's kinda weird that he's living the downtown high rise pedestrian lifestyle dream in a faraway city without me.
You'd think I would have been prepared when he left, but nope. I wasn't. Not prepared at all, because emotional limbo is no kind of preparation at all. It's one thing to be told something is happening, but until you have a date being strung along for seven months causes nothing but turmoil. I went on two trips, not really knowing for sure if he'd still be there when I got back. Any day now. He's still here. Departure date unknown. He's still here. The 15th. He's still here. Any week now. He's still here. No information, no news, no date. He's still here. Next Friday. He's still here. My friend said, well at least you have a date now, but what she didn't understand is that we've had several dates since January and yet...he's still here. He got paid to sit in his bean bag for the month of January, and had his last day of work twice and went back by the time he finally left. Of course I was thrilled to have him as long as I could, but the uncertainty and the inability to plan was maddening. I quit working out after I got back from Vegas. I just wanted to be around him. I didn't want to be rushing from work to home to exercise to shower to dinner to bed during his last days here. We finally got word from the Army, that he was leaving for real for real, just days before he hopped on a plane. And of course it fell on a day I was supposed to be out of town. I mean, who can realistically pack up their life to live abroad with a few days notice and not lose their mind? Not me. Oh no. Not me, but fortunately I'm not the one who had to do it and MJ keeps it cool. Somehow he keeps his wits about him and gets on with it, meanwhile I'm an angry hot mess over the entire situation.
He finally gets to book a flight and then it gets canceled. Now he is leaving in the afternoon instead of the morning so I can't even drop him off at the airport. Had I known he was leaving that day I wouldn't have made plans to be in L.A. all day, but nobody could give us that key piece of information until it was too late. Skipping it would have given me about four extra hours with MJ and allowed me to take him to the airport, but then what? The outcome is the same. My husband is leaving. The good-bye will happen, and there is no getting around it. So I left for LA as late as I could and cherished the time we had together that morning. I think it was harder saying good-bye at home because we didn't have the TSA airport drop off rules nudging us along. I had to walk out of the house, leave him there, get in my car, drive away, and when I got home he would poof be gone. So I hit the road for LA. I watched my cousin perform in a three hour long Debbie Allen Dance Academy Summer Intensive recital and enjoyed dinner with my family. I was just fine, until I walked in the door and burst into tears because he left Kohl's cash for me on the counter. Then I cried when I smelled fresh Island breeze scent because he plugged in the wall flowers we picked out at Bath & Body Works yesterday before our last date night. Pizza. His choice. Then I cried some more because the laundry was folded, and just when I thought I couldn't possibly cry any harder I cried because he left the sweetest handwritten note on my nightstand. He was long gone by the time I got home last night, but I could still feel his presence. He was just here.
|The downtown bachelor pad|
One month down, four to go...unless they need him to stay longer. But of course we won't have an answer on that for a while.