We are moving.
Not that far.
3.5 miles to be exact.
Should be easy.
Until this week I was handling it well.
Not a worry in the world.
But for some reason I have let that coolness unravel.
Everytime some asks about the details, I quietly loose it.
Have no idea why.
3.5 miles should be easy enough.
Same schools, same friends, same church, same grocery store - geez - what is the problem?
I think it is when you slowly begin dismantling life for a bit - - things that you tried to hide in the closet begin to come out. Literally.
As you begin to pick apart your house and box it all up, you begin to pick apart yourself.
Little by little you see things differently - some good, some bad. You begin to realize that you might not be the type of person to be put in a box.And if they aren't what you planned - - you begin to wonder how deep you can bury some boxes or how many will you carry with you.