Ever want to talk about something but know that it's not in the realm of what is possible? There are things in that category which fall into the whole just-not-possible sub-category; things like wishing I could talk to my mom right now. Then there are things which fall into the it's-possible-but-not-prudent/productive sub-category; things like wishing I could sit with someone and cry, cry, cry.

 

I've had plenty of time to consider this move, the pros and the cons. Mostly, it comes out even. But truly, it's that I have hope for better things for myself and my family. Knowing that doesn't make me feel better, though. Not in these final days here in Galveston. I'm trying to be as brave and strong and positive as super-humanly possible; I need to do this both for my husband and son as well as for my own sanity.

 

But really, between you and me... I'm scared. I'm sad. I keep looking at things as, "this is the last time I will [fill in the blank] here in this place." But none of that will get me through this stage. It stops me, in fact. It sets me horribly back if I allow it to overcome me.

 

This is all I can allow; this is the most lamenting I can do and still get done what I must.

 

I know this move will bring good things. I KNOW it. But it doesn't stop what naturally will be swirling in my head. The most I can depend on is that the knowing will make this part not as bad as it might have been; that the knowing will be there for me as the light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Right. Back to packing.