Two years

When I first met the woman I now refer to as "my therapist" I told her a brief synopsis of my life during the first session. During the second session she started with,

"I've been thinking about your life, and I just want to ask you--do you see an end to all the stress you are currently experiencing? I mean, is there a time in the future when you can say: Yes, all this stress will be over.?"

I teared up and said,

"I wish I could say that. Maybe in two years?"

Well I'm here to tell you, the two years is almost up. And I was right. The stress did not end for the whole two years--BUT.

Only 9 short weeks left and I will be walking at graduation. Neither of my parents will be there, but my adorable son and doting husband will be sitting there cheering me on. And the following week I will be sitting in the crowd as my husband is handed his Bachelor's degree after a grueling 5 years of work for him (and me).

I had an interview this week for a position. The wonderfully kind interviewer started the conversation first with weather and then asked me if I knew the hospital at all. I vaguely said yes, I had been here with family and she said,

"I hope everything turned out well."

Hmmmm..

"It didn't, but it was a few years ago."

Not a promising start. Why don't you start off your interview telling a random stranger that after a long battle with cancer at insert hospital name here he died in 2009.

Luckily, out of the blue she started talking about how her dad had died in December of 2009.

"It was a rough year." She said as we walked onto the elevator.

"Yes, my dad died on December 7, 2009."

She looked at me,

"He must have been pretty young. How old was he?"

"53."

She knitted her brows together,

"That's how old I am."

The elevator door opened, we walked to her office and I spend an hour and a half interviewing for the position.

They offered me the job today.