Countdowns and Irony

At this time last year I was in Maryland counting down the days until I moved to Portland. Now I'm in Portland counting down the days till I leave. Ironic.

In 3 days, it will be exactly one year since I met Karl. We are going to go to one of our favorite restaurants and splurge on a nice meal. Neither of us can really afford it, but sentimental value is priceless.

In 5 days, I will be finished with work. Done. I will walk out of there and never look back.

In 10 days, Karl and I will be moving out of our apartment. After 8 months of living here, sharing a tiny space with the man I love, it will be hard to leave.

In 12 days, I will be kissing Karl goodbye (temporarily), and boarding the plane that will take me back to MD. Back to my family, old friends, and the comfort that only home can provide.

In 16 days it will be Karl's birthday, but will not be here to celebrate it with him, just like last year.

In 18 days, it will be Christmas Eve. The last holiday where I will see all of my family at the same time for who knows how long. And then, Christmas, my favorite holiday of all time. A family tradition of being together that will never be broken.

In 21 days, I will cry while boarding the plane that will take me away from home and my family, and return to Portland, to the loving arms of Karl.

In just 23 short days, I will be leaving everything and everyone I know behind, and boarding the plane for the long journey to Beijing, and then eventually to Shenyang. It will be a hard goodbye, but goodbyes aren't meant to be easy.

Unfortunately for some, there is no countdown until I come back. That is an undetermined number, the only one that can't be counted. For me, that is the best part.