First two days of work. I'm half living in Kansas City, already losing track of what outfits I've brought with me and whether I've lost or merely misplaced my favorite belt. I don't have my beloved clock radio with me, and waking up exclusively to my iPhone's alarm is a little jarring. I still find myself reaching for the orange-capped key to unlock my apartment, home for the last five years, instead of the one with the black cap that opens the front door to David's.
But the cicadas are still deafening. Bailey still turns in a full circle while jumping backwards, so excited she is when I walk through the door. She doesn't care what door I'm coming through, as long as she's on the other side. I'm slowly building up my stock of yogurt and fruit and granola in a fridge that mostly holds condiments and shredded cheese and half-drunk cans of Pepsi. I (hypothetically) get out of work at 4 which means I can make it in time to the happy hour at Glace, Kansas City's, nay, the world's, greatest ice cream store. I get to tell David about my day in person, instead of on the phone, every day, and kiss him goodbye every morning, even if he doesn't remember it.
Figuring it out.