I’ve had an overwhelming two weeks. Part of it is a schedule that is too busy. Moved from the ghost house to the new house. A dear friend from another hemisphere visited OKC for 5 days (and I had a blast hanging out with her). My home office moved from one location to another. The ghost house (all 3,000 sq ft of it) had to be cleaned and repaired in preparation for the arrival of the renters. I caught a cold.

In the middle of all that I had several setbacks related to the other thing. You know…the thing that completely rearranged my life and all the cells in my body (no? well…that’s how it feels…). I hope that one day I will look back on these archives and pat my sweet little melodramatic head. I hope that life moves on with such force that today, May 19, at 10pm on my front porch with a glass of wine and a box of tissues, looks like a tiny little blip. I really hope it does. 

It absolutely doesn’t feel like anything right now but sadness and loss. 

I don’t care that I got to go out to a quadruple birthday party last night in my cute new dress and one of the birthday girls repeatedly called me pretty. 

I don’t care that a guy called me pretty, too.

I don’t care that the ghost house is super clean and nearly finished for my med students to move in this weekend. 

I don’t care that my new office is swanky and kick-ass. I don’t care that it’s going to be cool as hell to work around dozens of creatives in the food industry every day including a large, fully operational catering company packed with event planners, chefs and visionaries. 

I don’t care that this new (old) house feels more like home in 3 weeks than the old house did in 3 months. 

What I do care about is that when I saw him sitting several rows ahead of me next to his mom and step dad today there was a natural space to his left that was only big enough for one person. 

It was empty.

Tonight, alone in the dark, it feels like I’ll never get over this.