Milk Carton

So, I'm awake and Eliot's not. That has never happened unless there's an alarm clock involved. No alarm clock this morning. Just a very active mind racing from thought to thought. Lisa arrives this afternoon which means one thing: I'm actually going home. There are things going on over the past couple days and in the next couple days that have been saved on the mental list of "right before I head north and not a moment before". This brings about some anxiety, naturally, as anyone has before a big change. On one hand, I couln't be more excited. This is what I've prayed for, cried over, and has consumed my daily thoughts. However, with any big change, anxiety comes, doesn't it? Anticipation for something is usually the best or the worst part depending on what it is, right? Getting ready for our wedding was so exciting, especially the month before. Leaving for college or graduating from high school was built up the several weeks before it actually happened. Everything starts getting more exciting with each day. But there's something that happens to me when I see the date on a milk carton. Here's a silly truth: I will be home in the states before my milk expires that I bought two days ago. I don't know why but there's some authority in that.

There's been times, whether before my wedding or before a vacation that upon seeing the actual date on the milk carton has stirred a spontaneous dance in the grocery store. Discovering the date printed so casually on the plastic starts the reality of the situation. The milk carton date is equal to clicking on your television on December 31st and seeing Dick Clark announcing the countdown of the ball dropping. You know New Year's in coming, you've known all year but there's something about the televised ball dropping that makes you stop and say, "wow, this year is already over!" Tomorrow's tomorrow includes a packed van, a door closing on a beloved house full of friends and memories, and a final trip through Guatemala's beautiful mountains on our way into the city to stay in a hotel before we fly out Monday morning. That's it: tomorrow's tomorrow and no more cobblestoned streets.

Sharon was asking how I was feeling last night and a story popped into my head. The only way I can explain how all this feels is to relate myself to the story of the bear. He was kept in the zoo in a 16 foot area for so long that when they released him back into the wild he remained in a 16 foot wide area even though there was open terrain to be had. He didn't know what else to do. He was completely out of his comfort zone. Whether I liked it or not, these 9 X 9 blocks have become my comfort zone and it will take some adjustment to live beyond them. The good news is that Target is less than 9 blocks from my house...