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

Winter.

I drove from Charlotte, North Carolina to Roanoke, Virginia on Wednesday night, and as the winter rain came down onto the road and onto my windshield, fogging up the glass and making me shiver in my coat and turn up the heat, I thought about the summer of 2012.

--

Rob had just finished his coursework at UVA and I was almost done with my master's thesis from Hollins, and we packed up our apartment in Charlottesville and went to the lake for the weekend. Then, with nothing really to do, we went down to Charlotte for a few days to visit his parents before making the trek back up, past Roanoke, this time to DC. It was the end of May and it was hot and muggy and the summer rain came down onto the road and onto my windshield, fogging up the glass.

Summer.

Rob went to China that summer and I moved back into my parents' house, hell-bent on finishing my thesis. I remember that airport goodbye so well--Rob's bags, the skirt I was wearing, the flip flops on my feet and the feeling of uncertainty that crept through me as we kissed goodbye. This is it, I thought, the end of our planning so far. I didn't have a job yet and I wasn't even done with my graduate program, but when he came back from China, he'd be done and he'd be with me at the lake until he left and after that point, we'd be apart.

I can't remember the moment I first really knew that Rob and I were always going to be together--it's just something that sort of settled in naturally, creating a pocket of belonging and joy in my life that I never questioned.

So he went to China and I got a job in Roanoke and he came back and then he left for Northern Virginia, and it wasn't ever an issue. After years of being near and living together, being apart and living away was just the new thing that we did so that we didn't have to say goodbye.

--

As I drove north from Charlotte this week and the rain came down, the Cloudy Day Nostalgia that hit me felt different than I had expected it to. It was new. As though that road ahead of me was winding with possibility after possibility and one good thing after another.

It's bizarre, to simultaneously feel completely hopeless about one thing and so incredibly blessed about everything else. But I think that's just how life is sometimes.

To say that we stayed in this weekend would be an understatement. On Saturday afternoon Rob, Sean, and I ventured out to the mall to do some Christmas shopping and literally bought one thing before looking at puppies and then going home. Not productive. At home, we watched movies and ate a huge seafood dinner of scallops, lobster, and shrimp with my parents. We sat on the couch by the fire on Sunday morning and drank tea. Sunday afternoon brought a cooking marathon between my mother and I, and then Rob and I took a walk down to the dock and sat on the boat for a while.

I spent so many moments this weekend looking around me and feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. This family, this man, this food and these things that I sometimes take for granted without a thought. I feel so, so lucky for this life I've been given.