turning 28: an absent year

One short (yet so, so long) year ago I wrote a blog post on thetrainridehome.com about turning 27. The United States had begun quarantine, and I was scared. Everyone was scared, to a certain degree. I was laid off from my new job that I was barely getting the hang of, and my little family consisting of my husband, my dog, and myself were in a new state away, far from family, with no income, trying to keep it together.

the road to asheville

On a Thursday in late December we packed everything we could fit into our red Honda, including a special spot for our dog, and started the 16 hour drive to North Carolina. The first couple hours we were focused – silent. Listening to our podcasts and navigating through Connecticut, New York, and New Jersey. The traffic going around the city was clogged, drastically slowing our quick pace less than 2 hours into the trip. At this point, Pebbles the dog also chose that he was over his special seat in the back, and squeezed his way onto my lap, where he would stay most of the journey.

moving boxes

Our first year of marriage sealed in these 7 boxes, full of the menial, yet meaningful items that make our days go by, showing us how little we actually need to be happy. In one day this organized chaos will be systematically removed and loaded onto a truck, then a boat, then a port, then our new home. Our house will echo in the emptiness, the end of this chapter.