Thursday, September 6, 2012

Packing... again

I've been staying with my friend Lena this week, in a neighborhood wedged between Carroll Gardens and Red Hook in Brooklyn. I woke up this morning and went out into the foggy humid air to get breakfast and found myself suddenly and completely swarmed by first day of school madness-- scooters and strollers, nannies and moms, dads and crossing guards, new shoes and new headbands and while I usually love this energy, am usually in the center of this energy, I couldn't wait to get my coffee and muffin and back to the safety of someone else's apartment.

And here is what I have to contend with

a month of living rolled and tucked inside this suitcase. I sit still as I can in front of the turning fan, wondering what I'll find besides cooler mountain air at the end of this day. Because in a few hours I board a bus at Port Authority (sort of perfect that it's a bus, a little bit of Greyhound nostalgia for 1993 journeys up and down New England) and I have little expectation about what I'll find at the other end besides some peace and some retreat at the American ashram where I'll live until October.

I am missing so many faces and voices that I haven't even left yet but I'm giddy, too, with my own kind of first day and anticipation.

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