Here I am, living in the Chicago suburbs with Jean. It’s been a month now. More than a month. I don’t think it’s been two yet, but I could be wrong. Honestly, I’ve not been keeping track.
When I finally made it here after leaving my job in Gainesville, I stopped counting. For the last two years, and most of the four before it, there has been a running ticker in the corner of my life (much like the show 24) counting down till the next time I get to see Jean. Finally, we’re together, and I couldn’t be happier about that. Together in one apartment and putting the final touches on our impending wedding.
And it’s weird. My life has revolved around daily phone calls and bimonthly plane trips for so long that I feel like I’ve lost my direction. Jean is lucky to be in her first job out of graduate school and loving it. She has a new structure for her life. When I left Florida, I gave up the comfort of knowing what I was going to be doing with my life.
I don’t regret the decision, because I love being back in the Midwest, and I love being with Jean more. I guess I just wasn’t ready for it.