Storm front coming

Seattle is experiencing a cold snap right now, the kind that leaves pedestrians huddled on corners with hands pulling their collar flaps tight. Last night, just before the latest front's arrival, my dad came inside and said, "We may want to reconsider our plans. There's a sea of black rolling this way. I'd hate to have you caught out in it."

The tide is in this morning. It marks the arrival of an unexpected part of our lives, a physical separation we anticipated but still thought we could stave off for awhile longer. I'm still not sure exactly how I'll manage to put CB on "our" flight tomorrow, especially knowing that there will be an empty seat with my name on it next to his. But despite my discomfort (and, okay, denial), quiet confidence sits deep at the base of my chest. If we didn't do this, we might not make it. By doing it, by allowing ourselves to follow the paths we feel compelled to take, we're doing exactly what we think is right, precisely what we need to be together for the long haul. If it doesn't work, I'll go back to England. But it is going to work. We believe in our decision; we will be there for each other every single day, even if it's not in the traditional way; and we will change our plans if either of us senses even the slightest warning sign. We are going to be fine.

So the next time an acquaintance asks how we're doing, wearing an expression that tells me the person has already decided our outcome, I'm going to ram the heartache and tears down my throat. I'll turn to the person with a "Why should you ask?" smile and say, "Good. We're good."

We are good.

Talk to you in a few days.