Cruel Geometry

The guy came today to estimate how much space on a truck it would take to move my life to Texas. Short answer: not much. He prowled about the place with a practiced eye, taking notes on his clipboard here and there. Will this be going? Do you have the original box for this?

As the survey continued, Bob (for that was his name- Bob) made some basic small talk.

Why are you moving to Texas? I filled in details helpfully, but Bob wasn't really having much of it. To me the move is a Major Life Event. To Bob it's just a basic math problem. One that he solves every day.

So we looked out at the sun going down over the water off my beautiful deck. I was feeling perhaps slightly nostalgic for something I hadn't lost yet.

I told Bob that I would miss this in Texas. He told me quite flatly that "Nothing lasts forever." and went about attending to his clipboard. Now I'm not sure how Bob intended his trope, but from the context I took it to mean: you won't be in Texas forever either, chummy.

He may have intended it as a comfort, but I doubt it. It's just the simple truth of a man who sees lives in transit every day. To him, all the boo hoo hoo comes down to: do I need an 18-wheeler for this job or not?

Bob's right, though: it won't be forever. I've spent the last few years on the road and I understand transition. It's impermanence that I'm not totally settled on.

I had to work out my own geometric puzzle at work today. I knew the answer right away but I didn't like it. So I re-checked and thought it through. It always came out the same. So I called my friend and explained my reasoning. She told me at the end that I was right and just needed to face it. Put on your big girl panties she said.

She's right. I was right. Bob's right.

Time to face it and move on.