Mike today reminded me to have no expectations.
I really am not sure that I have any.
I have this odd mental image of me in a suit, but that may be projections of my fears that I won't look like I belong.
But other than that, I have the image of a porch, perhaps screened in and a small dark room with wooden shutters in which I will live. Neither of these things will turn out to be correct, I'm sure. Perhaps I'm grateful that those things will not be.
I've neglected to expect anything because I've been too busy with trying to survive my daily routine. It seems as though every summer I become entangled in a myriad of projects, duties, and adventures. By the time September comes, I've lost all track of time and I've accomplished nothing.
This summer has been about treading water, maintaining whatever it is I've got to call my own. It's been a long few months, but they've flown by, if that's possible. Of course it's possible; time is a funny, fickle creature. But that funny, fickle creature controls our every intake of breath and guards our exhalation with its very life.
By the time I remember to breathe, I've lost three months. Living in Chicago until the beginning of July seems as though it was years ago. Moving to Denver seems as though it's been forever. Six weeks, that's all. Six weeks of fast-paced, fast food servitude and a feet-first love affair.
I've got so little time, and so many things to accomplish, to complete, loose ends to tie up.
Will it happen?
I have a sneaking suspicion that sometime during the night before the plane heads away, I will be running around, frantic, probably tearing up, most likely already incapacitated by grief and fear and then eventually, the sense of loss that pulls at me when I feel the sky surround me and the wheels of planes pull up. Every time.
Up, up, and away.
Cape Town Truth #1: I haven't started packing.
Truth #2: I have no intention of starting until I feel like I'm leaving.
Truth #3: It hasn't yet registered that I have less than two weeks in the United States before I'm off for three months. Ninety days. Twelve weeks. A long time.
I'm pretending this isn't real. I mean, it's very real, but it seems distant and intangible. I need to realize that some things are about to change. I do believe that for now it's better that I have yet to establish expectations.
I've neglected to expect anything because I've been too busy with trying to survive my daily routine. It seems as though every summer I become entangled in a myriad of projects, duties, and adventures. By the time September comes, I've lost all track of time and I've accomplished nothing.
This summer has been about treading water, maintaining whatever it is I've got to call my own. It's been a long few months, but they've flown by, if that's possible. Of course it's possible; time is a funny, fickle creature. But that funny, fickle creature controls our every intake of breath and guards our exhalation with its very life.
By the time I remember to breathe, I've lost three months. Living in Chicago until the beginning of July seems as though it was years ago. Moving to Denver seems as though it's been forever. Six weeks, that's all. Six weeks of fast-paced, fast food servitude and a feet-first love affair.
I've got so little time, and so many things to accomplish, to complete, loose ends to tie up.
Will it happen?
I have a sneaking suspicion that sometime during the night before the plane heads away, I will be running around, frantic, probably tearing up, most likely already incapacitated by grief and fear and then eventually, the sense of loss that pulls at me when I feel the sky surround me and the wheels of planes pull up. Every time.
Up, up, and away.
Cape Town Truth #1: I haven't started packing.
Truth #2: I have no intention of starting until I feel like I'm leaving.
Truth #3: It hasn't yet registered that I have less than two weeks in the United States before I'm off for three months. Ninety days. Twelve weeks. A long time.
I'm pretending this isn't real. I mean, it's very real, but it seems distant and intangible. I need to realize that some things are about to change. I do believe that for now it's better that I have yet to establish expectations.
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