As fate would have it, the love of my life is leaving for thirty seven days. I understand the commitments of global IMG_4924citizenship. But fuck. Am I going to be one cranky scribe.

Scrittrice.

To occupy my time, I plan on learning Italian, going to the gym (which I hate), working on books and entertaining my creatures. And working a lot. Fortunately, it’s a busy month at my job. Viva distraction.

I don’t want to be one of those “boo hoo” girlfriends and am opting for the, “Oh darling, I am certain the time will fly…” approach.

In actuality, I’ll be a literal hot mess in the center guts of my favorite season, in a favorite place, without my favorite love.

Never the less. The more I do to fill my time, the less I’ll be able to grieve the ache in my heart when we’re apart. At least my Italian will improve.

I feel like there’s a certain chance I’ll be on an airplane to Rome come August. Eight or nine hours to Europe is nothing after my 21 hour voyage to the other side of the world last month.

Earlier today, I told my best friend in Colorado that she probably won’t hear from me for around a month and change – and that she’s welcome. As a poet with somewhat of a soul, I have never been someone to mute my feelings.

Alas, rather than be cranky, I’m going to be quiet. Busy and quiet. That sounds like a fast way to pass 37 days. The countdown starts on Sunday.