“What town were you born in?”
I scribble furiously on Matty’s part of the application- sure that he’ll want to redo this in his neat, block lettering. This fact amuses, rather than annoys me.
He falls asleep so easily and quickly like only an innocent child can do. I envy him when I’m tossing, turning and stressing at night.
Walking back over to the kitchen counter I knock over a glass of water- allllllll over our precious documents.
I want to cry as if someone pissed on my freedom (and I guess that someone is me in this scenario?) Instead I just start slapping the wet paper stacks onto the table, pouting. It’s been one of those days. One of those weeks.
The reason I’ve started this paperwork when I should be climbing into bed is to make myself feel unstuck. I’m convinced that once I get residency a permanent dream job will magically attach itself to my life.
Here I am. Crying over spilled water on a Tuesday night. Frustrated at my over-sensitivity because being homesick makes me as emotional as a breakup would.
As homesick as I am- it’s still not as achey as it felt when I was apart from Matt for three months. That says quite a lot.
Yesterday I spoke to my best friend for three hours. Somehow it made me miss her even more.
“Why do you have to be from so far away?” I asked Matt as I hugged him later that night. No one can answer a question like that. It’s not even fair of me to say out loud. But he patiently lets me ask them so I can feel better.
He just hugged back tighter and kissed me on the head.