This week, I started a new job.
The next stop in my career path.
I started my morning commute with a friend who bought me my regular morning coffee order: double shot of espresso, black.
“Bitter,” I told him. “Like me.”
As I pulled into my next and last stop at Penn Station, I got a call from my new manager. She was checking in on me. She was afraid because there had been an attack in New York.
A terror attack.
I wasn’t prepared for that. And I kept thinking about how I spent the whole day prior shopping and figuring out what I should wear on my first day. I went to four stores and tried on everything that caught my eye.
It wasn’t much; Unfortunately, large sleeves are in.
I hadn’t checked my phone since Dave wished me luck on my first day when I first boarded the train. I received Dave’s missed calls and texts the second I was above ground.
He was worried.
When I got into the midtown office, I heard the commotion from my colleagues. Their parents kept calling them. Their parents were worried.
More importantly, their moms were worried.
It was then when I realized I didn’t tell you I got the new job. I don’t think I even told you I had been interviewing.
So, that’s on me.
It’s hard for me to get into the habit of letting you know what’s going on in my life. We’re talking again for the first time in years and it’s taking time getting used to it.
Afterall, it’s the next stop in our relationship path.