I’m making plans to come to NYC the Saturday after Labor Day. I’ll drive my car to Newark, take the train onto Manhattan, grab an oat milk latte at Hutch and Waldo, lunch at Stube, pick up some beers at City Swiggers, then wait at the park or the library. I’m not sure yet when I’ll tell you— probably on my drive up— but I hope that you’ll choose to come find me at some point. Just to talk. I don’t expect you will. I’m even pretty sure you won’t respond at all, but I hope.
I don’t think there will ever be a time when I don’t cry when a Lumineers song comes on. Like right now.
I don’t think there will be a morning when I won’t wake up and immediately look for a message from you. There’s not going to be a time when I pick up my phone and hope that it says “JPJ” on it. There’s no night where I don’t want to say goodnight to you. I miss you so much.
Hard day. Sunday. Sunday morning playlist. Ignoring the puzzle because I’d rather do it with you. Making breakfast, but no potatoes because I’d rather eat them with you. Setting off the smoke alarm. Sigh.
Today was a big day for getting unpacked and settled. It was also a million papercuts. I’m reminded of you in everything around me. I miss you.
Things like this make my eyes leak. I’m in downtown Philadelphia this morning to get fitted for a suit. I figure that I’ll probably need to present to the board at some point, so it’s time for me to adult that way. I wish you were here to help me. I miss you so.
I miss the way you smile at me when you see me for the first time in a while. I miss sweaty post-workout Julie. I just miss you and our life together.
I’m in a really interesting PD session right now and I just want to share and go back and forth with you.
Gah. And the happy couples.
It’s raining and I’m doing an IKEA run and I’d love for you to be here so we could do these things together, but you’re not and it just sucks. And then I’m here breaking down in an IKEA. I miss you so much.
Today was the end of formal new faculty stuff. There’s an external diversity training tomorrow. All of that is fine. Everything else just sucks. All I want to do is tell you things and share the small details with you.
There’s a Carl clone that works in the library. Seems like an upgrade, but the mannerisms and demeanor are the same. Eerie.
Bradley Cooper is a GA alumnus and occasionally visits campus.
Arrived in Pennsylvania today. One more step closer. And, of course, Thinking Out Loud is on the radio.
I’m only one long day away, or two shorter days. It’s kind of exciting, but everything feels somewhat surreal, like I’m just sort of floating through this moment. It’s strange. I’ve lost my grounding. And I miss you like crazy.
I miss you. I miss talking with you. I miss seeing you. I miss traveling with. I miss touching you, smelling you, hearing you. It’s so profound at the moment.
At a really cool brewery in Cheyenne right now— pour your own beers— and all I want to do is to be able to tell you all about it. Sigh.
It’s been hard to do all of this so completely cut off from you. Everything hurts and I have no one to process with. Writing to you helps, but it isn’t the same, obviously. The Lumineers came on the radio in the U-Haul today and I cried. So did Thinking Out Loud.
All packed and loaded. My journey east begins early tomorrow morning. Hoping for breakfast in Reno, but it all depends on how fast this rig can go.
Ed Sheeran still wakes me up in the morning. This morning it hit me hard. I love you. I miss you.
Just finished closing Nueva stuff down. Everyone is excited for me. One more step.
Left Grandma, Gerrie, and Sebastopol today. It was sad, but I know, and they know, I’ll be back soon. Working on the casita tonight, the storage locker tomorrow tomorrow, and then everything gets loaded the next day. Steps.
Took grandma to her first dinner out since her fall. It’s nice that she’s back to much of her former self.
Sunday morning playlist and crossword. And tears. Lots of silent tears.
I hate this. I hate it so much. Even in our worst stretches of communication I found comfort in even the smallest pieces from and to you. It was a light left on, a kindling of the fire, breathe for my soul. Now, nothing. // I hope you’re finding your peace.