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Kinda feel like my timing has shifted a bit since my internal clock was jostled by 48 hours of carrying boxes full of my worldly possessions. I no longer feel the dull ache of moving. It has now begun to caramelize into thick layers of apathy.

Altogether I have been timely in getting boxes unpacked. Altogether we only have about 2-3 more to go and even that amount seems daunting. I don’t know if it’s the false permanence that comes with moving or the hollow victory that follows settling in. Because, in the end, you’re never truly settled. We are not trees rooted to the earth. We are impermanent spores floating about and propagating what we can.

There’s beauty in the fleeting. Two and a half years feels like nothing in hindsight. So much happened in that old apartment and I think I’m relieved because I feel I am moving on rather than leaving behind. We, the proverbial hermit crabs, have ditched our shell for a bigger one. We have found the eraser shadow of life once lived in these new-to-us walls just as we have left it at our old place. I am not sad to leave, just tired.

Marie and I had a lovely evening. We watched a silly kids movie with Amelia and then stayed up late talking, connecting, and chilling. We also had like fucking crazy amazing good sex and when Marie said she couldn’t stop thinking about it part of the back of my brain lit up like “oh she’s pregnant.”

One way or another I’ll still be in love and one way or another I’ll be happy to be with her. Amelia was not planned so who says the second one has to be?

Love you mom, dad, sis, Marie, Amelia, kitty, hypothetical future baby


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