I’m sitting in my car bawling my eyes out.
I started my graduate MBA program today. Today and tomorrow are optional courses in financial statements and quantitative & economic skills. I am so impressed with the program. The prof was engaging, smart, confident, easy to follow, and encouraging. It was hard and I got through it, and I learned so much. Made synapses connect around financial statements that hadn’t before. Actually, today reminded me of our trip to Berlin, when our Australian expat guide spent four hours wandering hot and humid Berlin, explaining a history I’d heard but never fully understood. It was like finding the missing piece to a puzzle under the couch.
Rupert was still alive when we were in Berlin. It completely and totally sucks and doesn’t make any sense why I can’t call him and tell him about my day. I just want to talk to him. Why can’t I just call him and have him answer? It’s Sunday, that was our day. Perfect Sunday, when we would spend most of the day together in bed, eventually eating salmon in some form or another, hot off my grill or on bagels or with eggs or a tortilla. That was even his wifi password – Perfect$unday.
So now I’m exhausted from my travels and my 8 hour class. I’m lonely in an unfamiliar town, surrounded by strangers all day. I’m in my car crying, listening to music, and writing. In front of the house I’m staying in. Where there are altars and Buddha’s everywhere. Where I’m sure emotions are warmly welcome.
I guess I should pick myself up and walk inside. I can’t stop these lonely tears from falling.