Winds of Change

Spring is coming. I can feel it. 

We have finally had the first “nice” day that heralds the warmer months. In the midwest, this is the day when the temperature never really gets above 56 degrees, but everyone embraces it as if it were the height of summer. 

Runners suddenly don shorts instead of their ankle-length insulated leggings. Birds seem to appear out of thin air, and morning walks immediately have a soundtrack of raucous chittering. 

Just this morning, I was out on a walk with our pup and I had the realization that winter is almost over. It’s already March.

This time last year, [REDACTED] and I hadn’t even stepped foot on the law school’s campus. No decision had been made. No offer accepted. 

This time six months ago we had barely moved into the apartment that never felt like home. Just three months later, we would be buying a house and moving in. A house that definitely feels like home.

Part of my whirlwind was a 12-hour volunteer shift at C2E2. I was NOT looking forward to it, but it turned out to be incredibly fun.

This time last week we were preparing for a whirlwind trip back to our old city. It was a trip of 12-hour volunteer shifts, familiar places with new people, and an impromptu party at a bar around the corner from my parent’s house. It was excellent.

The weekend was everything I hoped it would be and more.

On the drive back [REDACTED] turned to me, “I’m looking forward to being home.”

Me too. 

This weekend I have plans to see not one, not two, but four friends. One of them I met through bumble BFF, one I met through a mutual friend, one I met through work, and one I’ve known since college. I think back on our first month after the move and feel an indescribable sense of gratitude and calm knowing that my feelings of lonliness and isolation were not final.

Change is in the air. 

And so, it seems fitting that I am preparing for another change. 

I got a job. A new job that aligns with the work I was doing before the move.

 In trying to describe this feeling, it is like putting together pieces of a broken plate and finding that, although some paint chipped off, the seam is nearly invisible. It is incredibly satisfying. 

Home is where the cat is.

My therapist told me that people are happiest before a vacation – that the planning and daydreaming about the event beings greater pleasure than the experience of it. It felt like a gentle warning not to put all of my happiness on one thing, but friend – I cannot help being excited and I want to relish the feeling for as long as I can. 

In the midst of my excitement, [REDACTED] is facing his own application process. 

Summer, it seems, is a high stakes game when you’re in law school. I have been doing my best to be a supportive, compassionate, and empathetic partner while letting [REDACTED] carry his own anxiety and stress. 

That is not to say that I am not open to hearing his concerns, or that I’m not present and available when he needs someone to vent to over the application process for some internship or another – I am. 

I just let his stress be his and try to keep my stress mine. My therapist calls this sort of thing a boundary, and she assures me it is very healthy. 

Have I mentioned that I really like my therapist?

A small example of nesting.
From left to right, a small basket of writing supplies, a carved elephant from a friend, a distressed wood sign, my bouquet from our wedding, Lovey Bear stuffed animal, and a struggling house plant.

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