Empty suitcases

"Don't stay up all night."
"Yes ma'am."
"Goodnight punkin."
"Goodnight mama."


Sitting here between piles of clothes, pictures, things, surrounded by all these many columns of my life, I realize that I will miss these small and soft exchanges. 
How do I carefully and completely zip myself inside these bags while managing to leave just the slightest gap for sunlight and learning and breathing in the midst of adventure's chaos?

I keep telling everyone that I'm nervous, not as excited as everyone else wills me to be. I don't know if that's on the whole truth or not. Perhaps it's just the thought of not making that familiar right turn into my driveway, not taking that big deep breath of home as the dog maintains his faithful post of first greeter, not swinging my feet against old cabinets while talking to my mom and dad in the kitchen, not turning back familiar sheets before climbing into dreams. Perhaps it's that. 
More than that though, I am full of hope for new sights to lift the clouds from my eyes, new sounds to echo in these ears, new touches against this skin: slowly shedding what must be shed and settling what must be learned, what must stay.

This world is so wide and small, so overwhelmingly simple. There are so many roads, so many trails yet to be blazed, so many people with cups full of stories offering a drink. I want to be a cartographer of souls, a student of the lines of people's faces, a lover of the dirt and all that lies beneath bootsoles. 

Four days.






Comments

  1. JacksonAugust 23, 2011 at 9:10 PM

    Wish I was gonna be in Boone to see you off. Ill miss you terribly and you will be in my thoughts as usual. Love you puddin

    ReplyDelete

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