In-between.

Not quite there. Kind of not really here. Somewhere in-between.

Ever feel that way? It’s odd. Like being stuck in one of those old revolving doors. The kind that spin around, taking you from the outside to the inside. Supposedly from the rain filled streets to the well lit hotel.

But then you get in the revolving door on the day that Mrs. Hoeffer’s third grade class is visiting the city. And the other dividers fill up with giddy 9 year olds, running you around and around and around.

Never getting in, but never getting out either. Accomplishing nothing, but also not missing anything. Watching. Moving. Stepping. Still not there. But really not here either.

In 2 weeks we move across the country.

T-minus 16 and counting.