Catching Up

It has been my experience that time always begins to play tricks when moving time approaches. I'm in a strange place these days, feeling disconnected from here and not yet settled into and attached to there. I'm always thinking I have more time than I do and then scrambling to make the next deadline. Still, it hardly bothers me. I just float through it, keeping an eye on the shore. The boys will leave next week, and I'll be several days behind them. My youngest will spend his sixth birthday in the company of his new family, precisely on the day that movers will load my belongings onto a truck. Then it's the roadtrip from Texas to New Jersey in the company of four cats, two dogs, and my mother. The reality of no longer having the brutal routine of single-parenting and full-time job are not quite believable to me at this point, but I have moments of understanding what's coming. They comfort me, these visions of rest. Rest. It's a luxury that I haven't allowed myself for years. I'm also going to treat myself to a new pair of running shoes. Oddly enough, I find running to be one of the most restful things I do. This summer's been harder than most for finding the time to run. The combination of sweltering heat and time constraints dampened my enthusiasm considerably. The whisper of fall's cooler air has always been a signal to stretch my legs and get off my ass. Moving, on all levels---from wiggling my toes to racing an eighteen-wheeler packed with my furniture to this new home across the country, has never felt so perfectly right and restful.