Things change fast. Back in Kiev after three weeks in a hotel with family in Virginia. But another delay, still no move date. Nervous energy and expectation, and hard to focus on enjoying the kids as much as we should have, especially after so much separation. Now they are again pixilated skype images, happy faces nosing in toward the camera, and I am again whispering close-in to my laptop in a coffee shop, then trudging thirty minutes back through the dark holding my coat around my neck to my lonely spot. Now the expectation is tinged with long sighs into space and conversations with TJ veer off into quiet. I don’t want to say the obvious—when are you coming?! And—I miss you!
And now there is something else. A period expected mid-trip, counted on, taken for granted! Midnight panics, and then early morning brooding. This wasn’t supposed to happen! There’s just no way! How can a cycle last so many days!!
But now there is not just a flimsy Ukrainian test to prove it, there is a German one too, lined up next to the toilet, the red dashes that change a maybe into reality.
It’s exhausting to think through the long silences, the blaming, the avoidance, then the anger, then the ultimatums that are coming. It’s even worse to think of the phone calls, the callous remarks, the jokes about the Ukrainian milk-man, as if the first four rounds of such jokes were tolerable.
I’m spent. It was easier not knowing. My kitty is next to my feet, and I’m craving sleep. Maybe if I do nothing it will all be OK.