Emerson is now 94 with reoccurring kidney infections, a black eye from falling and heart fibrillations. I don't know if I'll see him again. What a precious friend he has become. Dip and Momma Jones were busy working at their store while hugging me and wiping the tears as we pretend our goodbye isn't forever.
Tomorrow morning I will be having breakfast with a couple of students, a monthly ritual we enjoyed when I first moved here. But tomorrow my lovely daughter, Michelle, will join us and we will have our last breakfast together.
The move is bitter sweet. Last fall, my husband and I waited 10 days for the medical results as to whether he had cancer or not. Thankfully, not, but it shifted our minds a bit. Scott is close to his family and the 10 day fear made him think about being with his family. These emotional thoughts, in conjunction with the overwhelming stress being added to my job, prompted our decision to move to Billings. Oh, I have landed an awesome job, Scott likes his much better, we found a cute little bungalow, I have more opportunity to play music with peers...the list goes on and on and I don't regret our decision in the least bit. HOWEVER, (you knew that word was coming) the 5 months of anticipation is leading to quite a climax.
I love this little town! (Be sure to watch "Take Chance" on HBO starring Kevin Bacon" when it comes out...filmed here) And care deeply for a lot of people here. I've spent all summer driving to see my sickly mother, driving to see my husband and coming home here to pack. With each box packed and taped, a part of "home" feels gone, too.
Tomorrow we sign the papers for our new 1930 house at 3, about the same time our old one is shown. Perhaps some of this stress and anxiety is due in part of trying to figure out how to make 2 mortgage payments simultaneously. Perhaps it is leaving my dear Michelle. Perhaps I've just been anticipating and doing this for too many months and I need summer to be over. I'm not sure why I am writing this...what are you, the reader, supposed to do with this info that flows through my fingers?
This empty room feels full of melancholy and it seems to filtrate through my skin.




