182.32 miles

That’s how far away my love is. It takes so long to get there… even though on the map it’s only a few inches.

I just made the drive back after spending an amazing six days celebrating my birthday and just being with him. It’s so counter intuitive to voluntarily get in a car and drive 3 hours away from who you want to be with most. I hate it. I hate being so far away, and add two work schedules and a clinical schedule to our lives and you can guess how often i get to see him. We went almost 2 months apart once. I am well aware that there are couples that spend close to a year apart, but that really doesn’t make me feel any less pain.

I am planning on moving down to be closer to him in May. I’m both excited and terrified by this plan, having never figured out how to align getting an apartment and a job in another state. I shouldn’t be extremely concerned; I have to remember that millions of people have done this before me. I survived the first move, out of my parent’s house, so this is the next step.

I do love my apartment here in Corning, though. It’s small and sweet with a crumbling charm all it’s own. The light filters through the stained glass border on the large middle window in my living room, and the kitchen is bright and welcoming. The door to the roof may be ridiculously rickety, but it serves its purpose and I love the “porch” it leads to. I have filled the space to the brim with my belongings, but there always seems to be room for one more kitchen appliance or colorful tapestry. I have learned to be economical with what little flat surfaces there are; doing my art on the kitchen table and then hastily cleaning it for dinner. In fact, I basically live at my kitchen table; it’s become the all-purpose surface.

The only things I would change would be the shower head (it’s not higher than my head), the kitchen sinks (they are barely deep enough to soak a pot), and the narrow unlit stairwell (how many times has that light bulb burned out?). Still, I’ve made do with even those inconveniences. I got a swiveling shower head that I can point straight out, I do my dishes in the bathtub, and I’ve got a light on my keychain that brightens the darkest alley. I am content here, except for the distance between me and Palmyra. I’ve no doubt that I will find an equally charming apartment there, and I will make it feel like home in no time.

Until then, I will travel the 182.32 miles to see my love for a few days at a time; and I will cherish every minute we spend together. It’s also a lovely drive through the valleys and along the Susquehanna river.

Oh, and there’s also these guys for me here… but obviously they’ll also be coming with me down to Pennsylvania.

Say hello to Charlie (orange) and Elliot (gray). Charlie’s full name is Charlemagne Hobbes, but I’ve never called him that. Usually it’s Charliepants, Charzard, or Charzipan. Elliot is just El; and they both are goobs, poops, doods, or beans.

I love them dearly and could relate punkish stories of their antics for hours. Someday I might record my favorite ones, but for now I’ll just say that they are both curled up at my feet, cuddled together and asleep. These are the moments I think back on when they decide to practice their tag-team destruction antics.

Ahh, life.