The kettle bell and kiteboard no longer reside in the dining room. This apartment does not feel the same way it did six months ago. There is an air of sadness hanging around it. I miss hearing heavy footsteps on the stairs and his booming baritone voice.
These days I do not spend a lot of time sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Shortly before our breakup, I joined the choir of a local Methodist church. My schedule is hectic between rehearsals for the Christmas program, my job, and twice a week social outings.
I am determined to meet new people and salvage the remaining months which I have left on my lease. My goal is to relocate to Virginia or Maryland by August 2011. I am already on the East Coast so, moving should not be to complicated. The relocation from New England to the Mid-Atlantic states will be a 15 hour undertaking at most. I can sell all of my furniture and start all over again. No harm. No foul.
Somewhere down the line, maybe love will knock on my door again. One of my new acquaintances is a naval officer whom is on the verge of retiring. One night at Happy Hour, he inquires about how I got to Newport. I give him the abridged version of the story.
He listens intently without uttering a word.
"The thing about the military is that you always seem to be saying hello or goodbye. It is just how things work."
His words provide much needed comfort. The next couple of weeks will be filled with holiday preparations. My pastor has invited me to spend Christmas Day with her family. I am excited to play with her kids and forget about my sadness for awhile.