Our cross-country moving plans have officially been announced to all important parties...our families, friends back home, the grandparents we'll be staying with when we first get there, my boss and our landlord. There's no turning back. A lot is still undetermined and that scares me, but I know that's what happens when we set a part of our lives into motion with change. In one month we'll hop in that Penske truck, car in tow, and drive (at a painfully slow pace) back to where we came from. Maya will think one of those big trucks she's so scared of finally swallowed her whole, just as she feared.
Naturally, I have been plotting and planning the move for months now, and I am making sure we take care of all the details asap. We've pre-ordered a couple books on tape (since Tommie refuses to listen to 18-hours of "Great Expectations"—I can't imagine why—we settled on "Beloved" read by the author Toni Morrison and "Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury); I bought a spanking new "Tush Cush" for my sensitive derrière; I'm starting to sell so many things on Craigslist they are going to start calling it Amberslist, and I've been yelling at Tommie on an hourly basis to organize his stuff. I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of this month he and Maya drive the truck home without me.
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