Another end of another Chapter

I'm leaving again.

The suitcase in the center of my floor overflows with the entire contents of my closet.

I have three boxes in the hall: my shoes lined in pretty rows with their heels sticking up; my books nudged against one another, their bindings matched to size; my bedding folded and vaccuum-sealed--the space-saver.

I don't know what parts of my life to keep, to tote along. I don't know what parts to leave resting in the shelves of my closet, or the corners of my desk drawers. I don't know what parts to pour into the black trashbag unceremoniously draped over my doorknob.

I don't know what parts.

No one ever packs it all.

I'd like to fit my sisters in this suitcase; the warmth of my mother, the heart of my father. But no one ever packs it all. Instead I have photographs and memories peppered with sunshine and salted with rain. This, then, is the beginning of another--heart break.

I wish the earth were flat, so I could always see everything. So that the only hindrance would be my inadequate eyes, and not the stretch of the world.

I thought I was eager to leave. But I find myself reluctant to put the key in the ignition. I leave my things strewn about, unpacked, waiting: in the choosing of what remains, what journeys, and what's thrown away.

Can't I be everywhere? At the side of my eagerly anticipated friend--Love--Zak AND behind the desk of a graduate classroom AND in the car next to my mom on yet another long journey, in the room next door to my still-highscooled sister. Can't I Be it all?

In the space between, I sway and play tug-of-war with the turning of the page.