Fulfillment

If you want to read the story from the beginning, start here. If you want to read from the middle, start here. If you only want to know what happened just before this, start here.

Because the cat was not missing but merely hidden, we started out a little later than we’d planned. But, because the truck was much more powerful than expected (I cannot recommend Penske moving trucks highly enough!), we were doing fine on time. We hauled booty (and furniture!) through the mountains with no trouble.

We arrived in Wilmington around 3pm. The day was warm and sunny. We found the house with little trouble. A call to the landlord revealed that the door was unlocked and the key was on the kitchen counter. We took the dogs for a long walk to help get them settled. We called my sister and BFF and planned for them to come down the next day.

Hubby and I brought in the essentials – towels, some dishes, dog crates, litter box, pet food, and birds. We also unloaded the bed and the couch. We changed clothes and went to a local bar, sitting outside sipping beer for him and a glass of wine for me. We got to bed early, finally feeling the exhaustion that comes with stress and driving for hours.

The next day, Sunday, the truck was unloaded in minutes with the help of my family, my friend, and her husband. We sat out on the porch and chatted for a couple hours. My friend brought a housewarming box, loaded with things one might need the first few days in a new place – toilet paper, hand soap, paper towels, a loaf of bread, sandwich meat, condiments, Pepsi. Her thoughtfulness was really touching! Sitting around with everyone helped me feel safe and reminded me of why I wanted to come here in the first place.

Later, when everyone had gone home, my husband and I went down to the beach. We were only 5 minutes from the ocean. We walked bare foot along the shoreline, our jeans rolled up to avoid getting them wet. But for the fact that he’d fly back to Cincinnati the next morning, I would have felt completely joyful and content.

Back at the house, I checked on his flight itinerary. That’s when I saw my glaring error. I had booked the flight for the following Monday! He immediately called the airline, paid massive amounts of money to be put on the right flight, and aside from the concern that we couldn’t truly afford the upcharges, relaxed for our last evening together for some undefined amount of time.

We were up early the next day, stress, uncertainty, and sadness keeping us both from a sound sleep. I checked my email and received an alert from the airline. His flight had been cancelled.  *insert doomsday music here*

I called the airline and learned all other flights out of Wilmington to Charlotte were fully booked until late in the evening. A connecting flight to Cincinnati would arrive around midnight. Since he had arranged for a friend to pick him up from the airport and the pet sitter wasn’t checking on the cats that evening, this was a problem.

The airline suggested another airport, in Jacksonville. I explained that I had no idea where that was. I soon learned that Jacksonville is about an hour from Wilmington but if he made that flight, he would still catch his original connecting flight in Charlotte. We’d need to turn in the moving truck very soon and get on the road to make it in time.

It was a dreary day, raining in spurts, and cloudy. We found the small airport in Jacksonville to be packed, probably in part due to the cancelled flight in Wilmington. We also found that his flight had been delayed by about an hour. At first the delay seemed like a bad development. But, as we sat down for lunch together in the airport diner, I felt immensely grateful for the additional time to listen to his voice, feel his arm around my shoulders, and look into his face.

As he stood in line for security, I felt very small and weak. As he passed through the gate where I could not follow, I was unable to hide my tears and those who know me well will tell you, I’d rather take a beating than cry in public. This entire journey thus far has brought me to tears, in public, on more ocassions than all other events in my life put together. I’ve said from time to time, I never imagined crying so much over getting what I wanted.

And I am getting closer to what I want. My husband has a job interview here next week. He could be living here with me by Christmas. That will bring a whole new set of issues to tackle (integrating cats who dislike dogs into a dog filled house, all of us living in a third of the space we’ve lived in for the past 8 years). It will also bring new lessons and new joys.

There have been many times that my husband and I have questioned whether the difficulty of this transition meant we were on the wrong path. There were many times I threw my hands up and said, “this is just too hard!”. Then I went on to do what needed doing next. Because I didn’t know what else to do.

I’m very much looking forward to the day I wake up and realize that our lives are once again uneventful. I look forward to falling back into routines and rituals that have filled my days for years. I look forward to having my family all together under the same roof again.

When I was deciding to write this all down, I meditated about it for a few moments. What I’d like to leave you with is what I got from that meditation:

Just because your path is difficult does not mean you’re on the wrong path. It just means there are lessons you need to learn along the way.

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