Today something significant happened. Although I cried a bit (harder than I thought I would), I now realize that I can move forward. I'm trying to pass it off as a giant relief, after two years of uncertainty and periods of manic depression. Now I can reap the sweet rewards that come via the stupidity of the Greater Manchester Police. I'm hoping it will all balance out somehow.
'3 Minutes to Salford' is an acceptance--the acceptance that comes from sitting on an overcrowded train on a rainy morning in Northern England, heading into the grim heart of an industrial city. I know when that train pulls into Manchester Victoria, it's only 3 minutes to Salford, where I will disembark and slosh through the puddles to work. I accept that I've been on automatic for quite some time now, and I wish for anything I could be 3 minutes away from a better place.
Yeah, I guess it's all symbolic. This is essentially going to be a travel blog. I still have a good 5 months to go before I meet my husband in Paris to begin our travels. I have a few more things to sort out until then. In the meantime I'll still be taking that train into Manchester, walking through those miserable puddles--but I just might be somewhere else during that time.
