I PROMISE, you guys, that I’ll start writing again regularly. I know it’s no excuse (but really, it is!), but things have been absolutely crazy the past few weeks. Between accepting what, for all intents and purposes, is my dream job (no really, it is) to moving out-of-state and then STARTING said dream job all in a very short period, my stress level has increased exponentially.
But it’s really good, really amazing stress.
Moving was not as horrible as I thought it would be. It was horrible, yes, but by definition, moving is horrible. I was pretty weepy (read: VERY weepy) the week between looking for a place in DC and MOVING to DC. I had dinner with my pregnant BFF and I don’t know who was more teary-eyed—her or me.
In the two weeks since being here, my life has been a complete whirlwind. I’m loving every minute of it (including the ‘up all night’ editing parties the editor and I have had!) and have gotten to meet some really wonderful people. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m doing exactly what I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid. I have to pinch myself at least twice a day to make sure it’s all actually real.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not homesick. Ohio will always have my heart, mostly because my family and lots of close friends are there. It kills me that I’m missing out on watching my sister try and housetrain her new puppy, missing all of the baby-related stuff with Sarah, and a myriad of other family/friend related things.
But what hurts the most is not being there when someone passes away.
This past week a very dear college friend’s mother passed away and I wasn’t able to be there for her. She’s going through so much right now and handling it with such strength. She gives new meaning to the phrase “Grace Under Fire.” I adored her mother and was so sad to hear of her death. All I wanted was to hop in the car and be there for my friend and her family. However, with my publication’s launch tomorrow, it just wasn’t possible.
That brings me to this morning. I found out my great Aunt Hanna passed away last night. She was the last living sibling of my grandfather’s (who passed away 10 years ago tomorrow), so her death really feels like the closing of a very big chapter in my family’s history. I’m sure that she was welcomed into heaven with open arms and lots of smiles and hugs last night, but it doesn’t make it any less sad. I have nothing but lovely memories of her: even when she fell ill toward the end of her life, I still always pictured her as a blonde dynamo, flitting about, giving the best hugs, and being the first one on the dance floor at ANY family function. I’ll remember her laughter, her great sense of humor, and her fierce love of her family. I was so blessed to know her and be a part of her family. The world is little less lovely today without her in it.
That’s the worst part about living away from your family (especially if you have a close knit family like mine): times when you just want to be home, sleeping in your old bed & wishing the big bad world would go away, you’re hundreds of miles away. I don’t care how old you are, sometimes all you want is your mom. And today, I just want mine.
To be fair, my parents were in town this past weekend (where they witnessed the de-Occupation of McPherson Square. It definitely deserves a separate post), so I’m really just being selfish. But today, really, all I want is my mom.
I didn’t mean this to be such a downer post, but I definitely wanted to get something up today. Promise the next post will be MUCH lighter.