My favorite box to unpack in the first one, whatever the first one is. The feeling of taking your belongings, carefully packed in some other place, in some other time, and arranging them. Bringing your life out of storage.
My least favorite box to unpack is the last one. The one with all the junk you didn't know where to put. You've already spent time unpacking, putting away, organizing. This is the box that makes the move definite, the box that says "you live here now," the box that takes your careful organization to instant mess because there was no place to put the junk anyway. I usually avoid unpacking that box until the very end, when I have to pack again and move somewhere else.
Today, I slept in and enjoyed the stuffy hotness of my room, the sound of rowdy cardinals in the trees, the horn of the passing train. No slammed doors, no muffled music in the hallway, no forgotten alarm clock in the distance, no sleep-deprived crammers slumped over books outside their rooms, no hum and beat of the City. The first day of summer.
As I turned in my key to the front desk last night, leaving dorm life behind maybe forever, the strap of the ex-shower flip flops I was wearing broke. Shower shoes Bookish Friend had given me on the first day of college two days ago, broken shoes on the last day of college this year. A sign?
My least favorite box to unpack is the last one. The one with all the junk you didn't know where to put. You've already spent time unpacking, putting away, organizing. This is the box that makes the move definite, the box that says "you live here now," the box that takes your careful organization to instant mess because there was no place to put the junk anyway. I usually avoid unpacking that box until the very end, when I have to pack again and move somewhere else.
Today, I slept in and enjoyed the stuffy hotness of my room, the sound of rowdy cardinals in the trees, the horn of the passing train. No slammed doors, no muffled music in the hallway, no forgotten alarm clock in the distance, no sleep-deprived crammers slumped over books outside their rooms, no hum and beat of the City. The first day of summer.
As I turned in my key to the front desk last night, leaving dorm life behind maybe forever, the strap of the ex-shower flip flops I was wearing broke. Shower shoes Bookish Friend had given me on the first day of college two days ago, broken shoes on the last day of college this year. A sign?
1 comment:
It's really good just to hear that you are around. A new place to rest your head. Another summer ahead.
I hope - and I'm not alone, I know that - we will be hearing some more from you during the summer.
Blogland is not everything but it is real in its own way. You are real too. It's good to know how you are. Or rather it's not good not knowing how you are.
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