I Don't Know What to Be without You Around

Tomorrow is packing and cleaning and packing and organizing and unpacking things I still need and re-packing in their place. Tomorrow is doing whatever the heck I want: sleeping when I want, eating what I want, shutting myself away from who I want. I need me time. I miss me time. Coming home exhausted at the end of a long, stressful day and falling asleep doing devotions is by no means me time.

Tomorrow is hours closer to tomorrow's tomorrow. Tuesday is final packing and weighing and sleeping in and quick good-byes and even a silly good-bye and a flight home and lots of hugs and Starbucks and my car and a bed that feels like I belong in it. Tuesday is forgetting for a minute that I ever left the land of sea and stars and ocean and real air and real water.

Today was good-byes and t-shirts and promises and frustrations and stress and McDonald's and Die Hard and making way too many moves and exhaustion and, ultimately, relief. Today was the final day of expectations.