357.
Eleven days left in Savannah. I've already got eight packing boxes stuffed to the brim, and that's not including clothes, shoes, toiletries and other personal items.
I'm feeling about a hundred different emotions at once and I wish I could express them all. It's mostly doubt, anxiety, excitement, hope. There's no one that can say with total certainty that this is the best thing for me to do, but the fact that I'm going through with it should tell me as much. I need to get out of my house now or I'm afraid I never will.
But my mind keeps running through all the things I'm going to miss when I'm in Arizona. For instance, Yoshihei and Garet just found out they're expecting their first child (she's five weeks along); and Tommy and Gayle or Nick and Katherine are likely going to be married soon. Then there are the little things -- the unspoken traditions. Like, this final installment of Harry Potter will be the only one I won't see with the group. All those realizations strike me right in the heart.
It's slowly hitting me, all the "lasts" I'm experiencing. I had an appointment today and the only thought in my head was, "This is the last time I'll sit in this waiting room; the last time I'll see this doctor." I'm trying to soak everything in and commit it to memory so whenever I'm unbearably homesick I can close my eyes and see all my old haunts in my head as if I was really there.
I'm feeling about a hundred different emotions at once and I wish I could express them all. It's mostly doubt, anxiety, excitement, hope. There's no one that can say with total certainty that this is the best thing for me to do, but the fact that I'm going through with it should tell me as much. I need to get out of my house now or I'm afraid I never will.
But my mind keeps running through all the things I'm going to miss when I'm in Arizona. For instance, Yoshihei and Garet just found out they're expecting their first child (she's five weeks along); and Tommy and Gayle or Nick and Katherine are likely going to be married soon. Then there are the little things -- the unspoken traditions. Like, this final installment of Harry Potter will be the only one I won't see with the group. All those realizations strike me right in the heart.
It's slowly hitting me, all the "lasts" I'm experiencing. I had an appointment today and the only thought in my head was, "This is the last time I'll sit in this waiting room; the last time I'll see this doctor." I'm trying to soak everything in and commit it to memory so whenever I'm unbearably homesick I can close my eyes and see all my old haunts in my head as if I was really there.