This morning, Rob and I sat down together by a window in the Roanoke Airport's little cafe with a cup of black coffee and a plate of greasy hash browns as we waited for his flight to Minnesota.

"What if we got something that was just mixed with a pit bull?" Rob asked, in regard to the breed restrictions of most apartment complexes. The discussion of our future dog is just one of the hypothetical conversations we have. I don't know if it's a coping mechanism or what--because as much as we'd love to plan out the rest of our lives, the truth is that we're really just taking it two weeks at a time now. I have a flight booked for mid-February to visit him in Minnesota, and then in early March he'll be coming to Virginia for our anniversary. And then we'll plan another month.

Rob hasn't even landed in Minneapolis yet, and already I get so many supportive and uplifting comments from you guys, telling me that my positive attitude for this whole thing is inspiring; it's what's going to get me through. I appreciate all of that so much, but I'm not really sure if "we'll figure it out as we go" is just something I say or if it's really enough for me so far. I look at families with a parent in the military who gets deployed, and friends with fiances in different countries, and I still feel like I have a pretty good deal in all of this.

But as lucky as I feel, I still fell apart this morning as he packed up his bags and put on his heavy winter coat. I still cried over our shared plate of hash browns at the airport, and I still felt a little lost as I walked to my car after hugging and kissing him goodbye at the security checkpoint. Only taking it a few weeks at a time can be really simple and effective, and it can also be really overwhelming.

So here I am, on my own on a Sunday morning, feeling a bit overwhelmed, but determined to make the best of it.

It really feels like it was just last week that Rob moved into his room at the Residence Inn, but it was the end of August. And in early October, he moved into his apartment in Arlington. DC was always meant to be a temporary stop for Rob, but I'm surprised at how quickly this time has flown by.

I have loved having a reason to meet up with friends like Melissa and Whitney; have brunch with Betsy or drinks with Sarah. I have loved being able to meet Rob in Richmond or Charlottesville and spend the weekends with friends from home. And I have loved this little adventure with Rob, and the reminder that a little distance isn't an issue for us.

So this is Rob's last week at his office in Tyson's Corner, and then on Friday he'll drive to Roanoke, and movers are coming on Saturday morning, and his one-way flight to Minnesota takes off on Sunday. This move has come to fruition even faster than his stint in Northern Virginia felt.

The five months of weekends we've had so far have been fun, and I will hate to see Rob go even further, but I think the next adventure will be even better.

Rob is flying to Minnesota this morning to look at apartments.

I think it was late November when it first came up--there was a huge opportunity for him in St. Paul, and the project would give him a ton of experience, and the company really wanted him to do it. It was exciting, and I was so proud of him, and they want him to start on February 4th, and it didn't really feel real until last week.

It was equal parts fear and denial that kept me from saying anything, both here and in my daily life. I mentioned it to a handful of people when I needed to talk about it, but that was it. I've learned, after almost six months of being apart and having great jobs in different cities, that too many people ask me too many times, what are you doing; what's your plan?

What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm at work. And we're making it work.

Yesterday afternoon it started snowing and it didn't stop until late last night, and I cuddled up on the couch by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate and tried not to think about how fun these nights usually are when you aren't alone.

My office is opening late this morning, so I took a walk with my dog through the dusting that's already starting to melt. I thought about the snow here, and the snow in Minnesota, and my Rob, and how this is going to be really hard, but eventually really good. With hope and faith and love and boots and Dividend Miles, we'll figure it out.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost