I am approximately two packing days from moving. Today, and tomorrow. It's amazing to think that so soon, I will be in a new home, in a new state, going to school to study something I am incredibly passionate about...something I believe in. This year is a dream come true for me, and so, as afraid as I am (and I would be lying if I couldn't admit my fear) I am hopeful and enthusiastic to begin my journey.
As I pack my things, I find myself running through an entirely different set of questions than when I moved from college into my first apartment. This time, I ask "Is it useful? Do I need it? Is it lovely? Do I have space for it?". I separate my belongings according to room and use... my Mother could tell you that packing for me in the past was always "How many different things can I fit into this box?" But not now. I get rid of old clothing, T-shirts that I love but that aren't destined for adult life. I throw away old paperwork that I don't need, all those bic pens that still "sort of work". But the tiny objects I find? The really small spool in my sewing box? The scraps of fabric--from quilts and clothing and bridesmaids dresses? Those are packed so I can take them with me. I packed "The Little Prince" but selling my copy of Bertolt Brecht's "The Caucasian Chalk Circle". I am changing and evolving already...and I haven't even left Ohio yet.