I posted part one about two years ago. And you thought I forgot about part two.
So today I started packing for college. That's a weird thing to think about, isn't it?
And, though moving day is still a good six months away, since senior year so far has been very lacking in the free time department and the last month of it is a storm of grad parties, receptions, and banquets, I figured I might get some work done now.
Two things struck me as I've started to sort and pack. The first was how much complete junk I managed to sneak over to Africa with me. The idea was that we all purge a bit but that really didn't happen with me. I don't really know what I thought I was going to do with a bag full of scrap booking supplies, a chunk of welcome mat from my old band director's platform, or an empty box for a plastic guitar, but they all made the trip and none of 'em are baking it back.
The second realization was that it was difficult. I'm not going to try and start the "home" argument/discussion/pontification just yet, but there's no denying that ripping my beloved posters off the walls for the nth time felt more meaningful than I expected. I do love our house, and my room is pretty awesome even after JD made it smell like cat, but a small part of me still does and maybe always will consider it a pit stop between two American checkpoints. That part was silent when I stood in yet another room that has had my posters put up and taken down in.
I guess I'm not really sure what I expected was going to happen at the end of this year. I suppose I've thought of it as just another summer trip back to the States in some ways-- pack up some clothes and leave most of my stuff behind. But it doesn't really work like that.
This may be harder than I expected.
-Will
"Echoes and silence, patience and grace. All of these moments I'll never replace."
