Saturday

7:23 p.m.

Yesterday Justin, the dog, and I ran away to the Snowies to see the snow. It was peaceful, the air was clean and sweet, and the dog exhausted himself. It was nice to forget everything for a morning. Saturday night some friends came over and ridiculousness with beer and Fritos ensued.

These photos are mixed up, and I don't really care. That's how my memories work, anyway.



















































































































































































































The last week was busy at work and at home. Also, there was an emotional high of the realtor calling and saying someone was interested in buying our house, and how soon can we be out? Followed by complete and utter silence, with the emotional low of realizing nothing was going to happen. (Don't make fun, I've never been involved in selling a house before. Getting called all the time to leave during viewings and keeping the house annoyingly clean is not the best time in the world ever. It all seems very dramatic, and the drama of possibly getting an offer was paired with figuring out exactly how much time we have left here.) Then the dog also got sick. Everything came together Friday, when I frantically made a vet appointment before work (stomach infection, poor guy), found out a family friend died, and what followed was a very very very stressful afternoon at work.

I've been dealing this week with the realities sinking in that a) we're moving very very soon b) we still don't know where we're going and c) we're getting married SUPER soon. Everything is rolling faster and faster, and soon things will be changed and my roots, my roots who were just starting to love the Wyoming soil, are going to be ripped up again. At first I thought I would just miss this place because it's what is familiar to me now, but I think I will miss it for itself. How could you not miss this?



















I'm not scared, or worried, exactly. I'm just feeling that ripping and tearing sensation, the one you get when you finally realize you're leaving a home and people and a landscape. Mentally saying goodbye to things one at a time, shaking loose clumps from the limbs that attached here. I feel an overwhelming sadness, a loneliness, and I want a few days to process, to cry, to try to memorize how the quiet crack of light looks next to the closet door every morning when I wake up. I want time to accept that I will never be able to remember it just the way it is.

Instead, things are moving faster and faster and I find that every minute is filled and there is little time to think about anything. In one week and six days we are getting married, so I have a week of work, then a week of people coming to town/getting ready, getting married, then going to Hawaii for a week, then coming back for a week and possibly packing, then going to see my family for a week, then it is very likely we will come back to pack up and move away.

It's not that I don't feel hopeful, or that I'm freaking out. Saying goodbye is just tricky. And the momentum? It's doing its thing.

Here's to my last normal week in this town.

Love,
black sheeped