There is a sort of surreal quietness to our daily lives these days. I mean, once you remove the inherent stress of working jobs, financial obligations and family; those will always be around. I mean, the underlying rhythm of life as it stands at the moment. We enjoy (and are even spoiled) by the weather in this part of the world, despite the severe drought most of the state is suffering, it goes on largely unnoticed—or un-mentioned—in this area. We want for nothing; my parents are gracious to let us stay under their roof and contribute what we can to the food and care of the property. And I feel generally lazy about preparing for this huge move looming on the horizon.
It’s so foreign to my mind that I can be sitting in the backyard, eating tomatoes from the garden and not seriously stressing about anything. And yet, the next thing I know, I’ll be sitting in our living room, in a building surrounded by snow, and the only way into the city is a bus, that takes fifteen minutes walking (without snow) just to get to the stop and only arrives every hour. We’ll be preoccupied with starting and maintaining a business in a new country, with clients in two hemispheres, and planning our approach to parenthood through adoption.
The state of my mind from now compared to where it will be in six months baffles me. As the time to leave draws near, plans will come together, stress will rise, and emotions will flow, and I can’t help but think that these precious few summer days will be some of the last calm days I’ll have in the foreseeable future.
I am afraid, not that that’s a bad thing, or a state of mind that I dread, of the unknown. I have so many ideas of what I want to do, and that I want to do with Vio, and I know that they’re all possible, but for the Grace that we’re given and through our own determination. But it’s like I’ve been handed a bag of legos from different models and I can’t figure out how to put them together to make the spaceship.