In which I (almost) can’t breathe

Ever since we found out that we are moving back to England for another three year stint, everyone asks how I’m doing, how we’re managing, if we’re ready, if I’m worried, etc.  They’re natural questions–and I’ve been pretty nonchalant about them.  It’ll be fine.  Worry is wasted.  We’ll get it all done.  The girls will adjust.

But now, as we enter into crunch time, I may be on the verge of some sort of mini-breakdown.  The movers (who cancelled and are now rescheduled for the day before we fly) are partly to blame, but I suspect that this was inevitable, even if things had all gone off without a hitch.  After all, it’s a big move, a big transition, a big change, and a big deal. 

So, right now, I’m focused on breathing.  It will all get done.  The girls will survive the chaos that is going on right now.  Marcus and I will survive, too. 

Breathe in.  Breathe out. 


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