Jared is moving home today.
It’s taken me 12 13 14 tries to write that sentence out.
Actually, I’ve written that sentence over and over and over again – it’s what comes before and after that sentence that keeps tripping me up.
Almost everything that has happened over the last few months has led directly away from this moment. Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time writing about it. It’s nonsensical. Jared coming home seems to be a non sequitur in this story of us. In so many ways, it doesn’t fit in here.
And yet, here we are, with Jared moving home tonight.
Despite all the pain and broken promises and moves away from reconciliation, here we are. Me. And him. And us. Under one roof again.
I keep trying to put into words what happened. For your sake, and for mine, because words have always offered me a sense of understanding and validation. If the words make sense, the steps make sense.
But the only words I have right now are these:
It’s time for us to do this together. It’s time for us to move on. It’s time, at this moment, for Jared to move home.
Of course, I know even less about what comes after than I do about before.
Jared hates that. My family, I’m sure, would hate that. Everyone wants guarantees and assurances and a neat and tidy ending wrapped up in a bow. Everyone, I suppose, is ready for this all to be over, in one form or another.
But I have no fortune teller answers. I know better, now, than to declare happy endings before the end has come. I’m starting to suspect that there is no such thing as an end. Not really. Not, at least, until you’re dead – and even then it’s only really The End if you believe in dust and ashes, which I don’t.
All I know is right now.
Right now, it’s time for Jared to move back home.