As I write this, I am sitting in an empty house that tomorrow will no longer be ours.
Yes, I want my family back together. Yes, it will be amazing and wonderful to have my husband home every night and on weekends. Yes, it's awesome and a big deal that he has a steady job no matter where it is.
Still, moving away sucks.
A year and a half ago, we found the perfect home. We moved in, anticipating at least 15 years in this beautiful house that fit all our wishes for a family home. I imagined this as the place my son would grow up. I loved the idea of being near family and friends and all things familiar.
Then came whispers of layoffs and relocations. Nathan started a job search to play it safe, and we quickly discovered his ideal job would probably take us away from home. And then it did. So we go to a tiny apartment with the promise of another move about a year away.
I will follow my husband anywhere. I believe in his work, he is great at it, and I love it when he loves his job. But leaving is still hard. I didn't know how much I loved being here till I couldn't be here anymore.
My hope and prayer is that I won't become bitter about this. I teeter on the edge of bitterness a lot lately, constantly telling myself that I really have nothing to be upset about. We're healthy and there is employment and we will be together. There are people who can't say that.
