In the months leading up to law school graduation, Heather and I grew more and more certain that we were supposed to leave the Northern Virginia area. We tried to make what plans we could, but there have always been many variables to sort out. Perhaps the biggest is employment. I am looking for somewhere that I can get good experience working with seasoned lawyers. Thus employment looms large. But employment is not even my most immediate concern. When I speak of law school graduation in the past tense, I am really only speaking of the ceremonial walk-across-the-stage part. That happened last weekend. The part where I qualify for a J. D. degree doesn't happen until I finish some law school credits this summer. After talking with academic and career counselors at school, I developed a plan for finishing the credits remotely; t
Well, I've just been talking about the forward-looking, uncertain side of transition, but there is another side to talk about. A time of transition often marks the end of a period of routine, of familiarity and order. As such it is a good time to reflect on what has been accomplished, a time to treasure up faces and places that will never be the same again. I feel Heather and I had the perfect opp
Monday, Heather and I had to focus on "transition" in earnest. We began packing all our stuff into boxes that we gathered from the neighbor's trash, Heather's mother, and the local Home Depot. It's amazing how fast you accumulate stuff when you get married. Not a bad thing since a lot of it was nice wedding gift stuff. But still. It adds up. Tuesday was move day. We had reserved a Budget truck online and I went to pick it up in the morning. I thought it would be a quick thing but it ended up taking an hour and a half! I learned my lesson--moves always take longer than you think. We did have help from a couple of guys from church who were nice enough to volunteer to help, and they definitely sped the process up. By mid-afternoon we were down to the final stuff stored in dark, dusty corners of the apartment. I thought it would never stop coming--electric mug warmer, giant Halloween spider, a car tire, bathroom scale, etc. We threw it in the last of our boxes and labeled them "miscellaneous," or "stuff" or "bathroom junk," for variety. Really there was no rhyme or reason. When the boxes were gone, we just threw the rest in the back of the truck. Finally, after cramming in some flower pots (still full of dirt) that Heather just couldn't leave behind, we pulled the door down and set off on our last stop-and-go tango with local rush hour traffic as official residents. Beside the traffic, the trip went quite smoothly. My only small mishap occurred at a red traffic light early on. Of all our belongings in the back of the truck, I was most concerned with how my motorcycle was doing in the turns and stops. So at the red light I jumped out and went around back and began to lift up the door. Heather was directly behind me, watching, along with a long line of cars behind her. Well, among the random stuff that ended up being thrown in at the last was a game of pictionary, which at this very moment decided to leap out of the truck and make a break for it. Pencils, dice, paper and cards went in all directions on the street. I began scurrying about madly (quite embarrassed) trying to beat the red light. Well, I must be pretty good, 'cause I did beat it. (It helps that red lights in Northern Virginia are like 5 minutes long.) I asked Heather later what she was thinking when she saw it all happening. She said she thought about getting out to help me but then decided that I had it under control. How about that!? I still harbor a suspicion she was really trying to distance her affiliations at that particular moment. Oh, well. All's well that ends well--my motorcycle was just fine, so I got over the momentary embarrassment.
Well, that is enough reflection for now. We're here in Chesapeake, we're in transition and life is good.