The yard.

Returning to Florida merely solidified the fact that I am about to face another transition, move to a new temporary home, and literally experience uncharted waters of my own.

When people ask me where I'm "going next" they always seem to have a story that applies to the industry, but for me it's not about the industry, it's not even the fact that I'm getting a free ride to Europe, it's that at this point in time I can't imagine my life without AVH. It's been nearly two years, two years of waiting until the next visit, waiting for the next email, the next call. I don't mind waiting, but I do mind not knowing.

But in 'knowing' you tend to learn just how much you don't know, it's that knowledge that terrifies me. It's a slow ever-moving process and I wonder if the cumulation of months will provide a few answers to the equation.

Five days in the yard provided a nice reality check. Navy shorts, white v-neck tee (don't they know I hate v-neck tees?), chin resting on the palm of my hand-- the typical day? Watching the world go by. The yard is a nasty place filled with discarded rusty razor blades, plastic, paint, machines, men. The smell of chemicals and metal. Healthy.

This lack of water left me in hesitation. This industry, this vehicle, this boy-- will I be happy here? Will I find meaning in the routine? Will I lose the excitement so easily maintained with always coming and going? Will I be the person he wants, needs? Will I become angry because I've given up some things that consistently help me maintain my own happiness? These were some of my in-flight thoughts, ponderings 32,000 miles over the east coast.

There can be a countdown now, 2 weeks until I leave the country. 2 weeks. 2 weeks until I leave Rowan behind. I have 2 weeks to figure out how to be OK with doing this.