> jumping into life.

« Home | i've discovered my dream college. unfortunately, t... » | out the window to my right, a late-afternoon sun c... » | i'm packing, and into these flimsy cardboard boxes... » 

8.23.2003 

this is something like a perfect day: warm but breezy and dry, a bright blue sky scudded by clouds, the farmer's market bustling. we bought apples and peaches, misshapen carrots, lemon cucumbers, blueberries, kohlrabi, and huge, heavy tomatoes.


tonight is my going-away party. i've been having a hard time telling people i'm leaving, and even harder a time trying to explain why. it's hard to just say "i hate it here." hard to put into words the certainty that i'm going completely insane and very literally need to leave. especially on a day like today, where the brick houses look so lovely and the even the trees seem content to be here. from this window, all i can see is blue sky, red chimneys, and the avalanche of leaves. the delicious breeze smells like springtime, and the basil plant on the windowsill seems to be smiling into the sun. i'm content. days like these are like reading hemmingway, the one exquisitely crafted sentence that falls just short of justifying the rest of the work. maybe if i'd been living with jason, or by myself, instead of in that god-forsaken, roach-infested house; maybe if the summer had been all these soft, sunny days; maybe if the friendships which have been suddenly flowering had taken root earlier; maybe if i tried harder to appreciate the twisted beauty of the city. but in the end, i have to leave. in a week now, approximately to the hour, i'll be arriving at the station to check my bags and confirm my ticket, and soon after i'll be boarding a train for the long trip home. leaving this city for something very like forever.


i stayed longer than i meant to. last winter i had an apartment picked out in tacoma, washington, and knew the number for u-haul, and found myself wishing vehemently that i'd not chosen such interesting classes nor fallen so completely in love. it's a sticky spiderweb of ties that bind me here, easy enough to break if you think to do it, but stronger than steel in their own way. i had a conversation with amy, who's also a recent transfer student, and she claims that i will feel as though i've "woken up after a long sleep." i'm hoping to see more clearly when i brush the cobwebs from my eyelashes, but i know i'll miss them once they're gone.