Mr. Level-Headed flew out one week ago. I think Avery summed up how we are doing the best.
Mom, I am surprised that it isn't very hard not having dad around. I thought that without him our house would burn to the ground or some other disaster would happen. Even though it isn't hard, I miss him. I really miss him.
Me too, Bud.
And there you have it. Our house has not burned to the ground. I have managed to pay the power bill and pick up the mail twice since he left. I even put the closet doors back on my closet yesterday afternoon all by myself after an extended period of not wanting them up. We are managing quite nicely, but OH. MY. GOODNESS. we miss him something terrible.
I love comparing life to running a marathon. Sure, I have never run a marathon before, but for me a 5K is like a marathon and I have done that plenty of times. Last week felt like the beginning of a run. I was determined to do it and to do it well. I was excited for the challenge and like the beginning all my runs, I let my optimism get the best of me and started out at too quick of a pace.
This week feels like I am a couple kilometers into my run, and I am painfully aware that there are far more kilometers ahead of me than behind me. The magnitude of what I have set out to do has hit me. I have slowed down my pace to preserve my energy so that I can get over the hills I now see before me,and I am trying to settle into the rhythm of this run. I am uncomfortable, and there is an ache in my heart, but I know that if I keep pushing forward my body will acclimatize to this challenge. I will become stronger.
Last night was the first night I cried. I had to pick Elliot up at the high school after his soccer game in St. Stephen. It was a long, dark drive to the school and without anyone else in the car, I had too much time to think and so the floodgates sprang open. I cried hard, and then I got angry. I always get angry after I cry. I think anger is how I rebuild my courage up. It is my armor and I rely upon it to protect my soft squishy bits. So, after my cry, I slapped the steering wheel and hollered:
I hate you New Brunswick! I. Hate. You. Why can't you get your act together and start thriving?
Yeah, I went there. I know it is the most politically incorrect place to go in New Brunswick right now but I went there. Currently, everyone is shaking their poms poms and cheering New Brunswick on.
Yay, New Brunswick! Ra-Ra-Ra-Ra!
And frankly, it drives me crazy. Irving has lined our highways with billboards celebrating all the jobs they have created and all the people whom they have "saved" from having to move away from their beloved home. Well, we had one of those jobs and guess what, we couldn't pay all our bills and so my husband had to move away, Thanks.
ra-ra . . .whatever
Years ago, before we had kids, I begged Mr. Level-Headed to move away with me. I wanted to go out west. I wanted to experience something different. I wanted to experience life in a thriving city but Mr. Level-Headed is loyal and he refused to give up on his home province.
Krista we can build a life here. This is our home. Our families are here. We can do this.
Well, eighteen years later, after a really good fight, Mr. Level-Headed was proven wrong. And for the first time in my life alongside Mr.Level-Headed, I don't feel like celebrating this rare occassion. I don't feel like rubbing it in his face, or doing my obnoxious I-was-right-and-you-were-wrong dance . . . as cute as it is. Nope, not this time because this time I really wish he hadn't been wrong.
New Brunswick, you sure are pretty, but, man, you suck!
