The end came sooner rather than later. Yesterday, Jen told me they were going to sign early on the new place and could be sleeping there as early as today.
It didn't happen that way exactly. Generously, she's given me another day, but it knocked the wind out of me when I heard. I was expecting Saturday.
Even though it's just a couple of days, I'd had it in my head that everything would happen while I was away. It would happen while I was visiting my family in Virginia for a night and a day. The move would be like getting a shot. I could turn my head. I'd feel the pain and realize something was being drawn from the vein, but I wouldn't have to watch.
Bedding down last night, sleeping next to my son, he told me how excited he was about the move. He really likes the place. It's twelve times the size of where we live, which isn't small by any means, but he sees adventure and places to explore.
"Why aren't you coming?" He asked and again, I had to pause and explain that my place was here.
"This is my house," I told him. "This is my house and this is your house, but you have two houses now. You'll be with your Mom a lot of the time and you'll be with me a lot of the time."
He nodded, wearily. Outside, rain poured down heavily.
"I'll see you every day?"
"Sort of," I punted. "It's going to be a lot like it already has been. You remember, I work those nights on the weekend and sometimes have to do stuff for the paper? Your mom took those classes. You'll see us both almost every day for a while and then it will be like that, where you don't always see both of us every single day, but you see us almost every day.
"This is going to be different, but the important thing is it's going to be okay. We're going to take care of you: your mom and me. You're safe and everybody loves you. Nobody loves anybody more."
Satisfied for the moment, he drifted off to sleep gripping my arm while I stared at the ceiling for a while then finally picked up yet another book to while away the time until it was safe enough to close my eyes and venture to dream alone.