So last week, I managed to unload more things--specifically, old photographs. Some I scanned in and have on a flash drive; others I were extras. Still more were ones of a former life I am no longer a part of, and so no longer need. These were all packed in a paper grocery bag, and left with the stepmom.
A trade: a daughter for old memories.
I have made new ones this week. We climbed a mountain, and played in the sprinkler, and went panning for rocks. It was a good week, but all good things must come to an end. Tomorrow I drop off the Megs with her grandmother. And then I go back to work.
It is time for a shift, also--a shift in planning, a shift in thinking. I am afraid Dent will not like this new shift. It will involve a talk, and he may not approve of the topic. But it must be done.
This will involve movement--from comfort zones, both his and mine. His, because it involves things we both should have gotten done before now and things I fear will not get done, even though we will have been together 7 years in August. Mine, because I avoid conflict and do not really want to be having a serious, earnest conversation with someone who will more than likely hop in his truck afterward and leave, even though he has no where else to go, and the intent isn't to be rid of him. Rather, it's a cry for help.
Because if he wants the "us" to remain so, we need to step back and see if where he is headed is the same destination as I am. I fear not.
Needless to say, I am not looking forward to this conversation.