No, not Heath Ledger's death. Although, yes, it's still troubling. But the big move away from my familiar still gets to me now and then. Don't worry, I like my new job. I like my apartment. I love life closer to family. It's not that I'm unhappy where I'm at. But sometimes I feel a small ache inside when I think about what I left behind.
It's a good friend's birthday today. At work, I'm sure they showered her with good-natured ribbing and baked her a cake. I bet the girls - my friends, my old coworkers - have been chattering all day, discussing plans for their weekends. Maybe a birthday celebration, or a lazy day with dogs.
I used to sit there, at those desks. I used to be a part of the plans. And I definitely used to eat the cake.
The old group got together to watch the NFC championship game. I watched it two hours away. We still joke with each other via email, but contrary to popular belief, the Internet is hardly a way to maintain a friendship when all I had to do before was look up from my computer monitor to talk.
I hear the town's name in passing, and the pit in my stomach flares up, the way it might after a breakup, when it still hurts to realize that person's life is carrying on without you in it.
I have yet to return for a visit, but likely because you'd have to tear me away with the jaws of life to get my to leave. I miss it. And my girls. The familiar life.
But I'm fine. And my life is thriving elsewhere, much like it has after every breakup. I only hope my old town will give me visitation rights. Because my new town is waiting with open arms for a visit from the old.