I’m trying to figure out where the time has gone. It seems like only yesterday we were still planning our move and now it’s been a week since we moved in. A whirlwind of activity over that time and suddenly there are less than two weeks til May 5th, when Richard flies away.

One weekend remains between then and now and it’s already booked solid. Three months before the wedding means it’s time to register and we have to do it before he leaves. We need to make some decisions on landscapers so we’ll finally have a front yard (before the neighbors start to complain). We need to have the quotes on the built-in office so we can figure out when to have that built and installed. Somehow I thought there was at least one more week in there somewhere and suddenly the time left is a lot less than I was prepared for.

A lot of people have wondered aloud why we were in such a rush to move in. Why not wait? After all, we gave our notice for the entire month of April. Yes we were excited about the house being done, but more importantly, he’s leaving and I did not want to move into this house without him – to have him come home to an unfamiliar place. We rushed, but at least he got to unpack his things. He’s wandered through stores with me searching for soap dishes and shower curtains. He figured out the quirks of the garage door opener. It’s his home too, this way.

I’m not ready. He’s ready – he’s been ready for years. This is his dream – this trip around Europe on trains and in hostels – just as the house was mine. But I’m not ready. I’m not ready to watch him walk through those gates and board a plane that will take him so far away from me for so long. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

How can it be this soon? There’s supposed to be more time. Why isn’t there more time?