Last Few Days in San Antonio

I just hit my head on a kitchen cabinet while washing dishes. Rattled my teeth pretty hard. I didn't lose consciousness but it's gonna leave a bruise.

This is my own home. I've lived here fifteen years and still smacked my head. It makes me a little worried about moving to Virginia by myself next week. I wonder how many times I'll have to learn where stuff in my new house is the hard way.

* * *

My friend Devin showed up to Brass Monkey last night. I couldn't really see him because he was wearing dark clothes but Julie said he looks even sexier than before. He finally left our old employer and is thriving at his new company. I've worked with blueprints for twenty years and Devin's were absolutely top quality. He produced as many in a day as most good engineers make in a week and he's the best nester I've ever known. He learned all this hands on - the company we worked for hired him straight out of high school.

Over the years I've noticed it feels better to earn the respect of one's coworkers than one's employer. Yeah, the boss decides who gets raises and promotions but when your coworkers who live in the trenches with you respect your work you've really proved something. Bosses can be fooled but the guys who work side by side with you know the truth. You know you're doing well when they know they can depend on you.

Devin was my boss. I wasn't in the same trenches he was, and certainly his job duties involved more than just producing blueprints and writing programs for my CNC machine. I can only judge what I saw but what I saw was amazing. The attention to detail, the common sense, and the way he somehow teased 100 square feet of finished material out of a 99 square foot sheet of raw material impressed me.

I'm glad he's thriving in his new role and I hope he knows how proud I am of him.

* * *

Just before we left last night I shook hands with the bartenders, bouncers, and DJs. The owner of the club gave me a Brass Monkey tee shirt and told me how much he appreciated us. We were the first ones back when the club reopened after the pandemic. He told us they closed early after we went home that first night back, sort of admitting what I long suspected - couples don't like to dance alone, and if my wife and I don't lead the way on slow nights nobody else finds the courage to step onto the dance floor. He reminded us that we were the only customers who ever brought Christmas gifts for his staff. He wished us well as we went on our way.

That's when it really hit my wife that I'm leaving. She was quiet on the drive home, thinking about how she won't have anyone to dance with, walk with, or cuddle with. Now that people are actually saying goodbye she understands in a very real way this is happening. We aren't counting down the days until a movie release or a birthday, we're counting down to a months long separation.

I don't want her to be sad. I love her. I've promised to call her every day we're apart.

* * *

Chris and Layne both called yesterday. We're stopping overnight in Tennessee next week at Ben's and Chris' place on the way to Virginia. Chris is going to follow us the rest of his way and see our new home, then he and Layne are driving up to Pennsylvania to visit Ariel. I'm excited to have Chris see the home. He builds steel frame buildings for a living so he knows a thing or two about construction. He can help Layne and I knock out a couple of honeydoos the seller didn't get around to fixing, like cleaning out the rain gutters, repainting the chimney flue cap, and replacing a termite damaged 2 x 6 in the garage. Chris and Layne were close growing up but they've lived hundreds of miles apart for the past few years. I'm glad they get this chance to catch up.

Chris isn't sure his boss will like him taking time off for the trip and is even more sure his boss won't want him coming with his mom to Texas to work on getting the house ready to sell but he's coming anyway.

They're good boys. I'm proud of them. They take good care of their mom. A father can't ask for more than that.

Five more days until we leave. The Star Wars room is painted, we've bought and stained enough lumber to replace all the damaged baseboard molding, a new leech field has been added to the septic system, most of my clothes are packed, utilities and internet in Virginia are set to go, and the finances are in order. I've been spending most of my time readying this home to sell but I spent the day yesterday on the riverwalk and the dance floor saying goodbye to the city. I think I'll spend the rest of my time here visiting some of my favorite places one last time.

* * *

I have a roommate lined up in Virginia. He's a 28 year old college student who needs a place to stay from January through May for his final semester. I'll be living there alone so I offered him the entire main floor. It will be nice bringing in some rental income and having some companionship.

* * *

I don't remember the first five years of my life. There's a glimpse here and there - the smell of a stuffed bunny plushie and the texture of a car seat and the color of my mom's yellow shirt - but no narrative to go along with those memories. If we don't count those first five years then I've lived in this house in San Antonio as long as I've lived in any other. That's kind of hard to believe because I still feel like I don't know my way around San Antonio. Once I get off the routes I drove to work things stop looking familiar.

I want to make Roanoke my home in a way that San Antonio never was. I want to know every neighborhood. When someone mentions a restaurant I want to know where it's at. I want to know the high school mascots for every school in the city. I want to know the name of my mailman and garbage man and the librarian.

As I've described before, it's a race against time. I have a few months of usable vision left and I want to squeeze every moment I can out of it. Going blind and losing my job slowed my life down. Making this house ready to sell has sped it back up. Moving to Virginia will hopefully speed it up even more. There's a whole new city to discover and only a brief window of time to see it.

I intend to see everything I can there. I can't wait to begin.