A part of me is glad, another part afraid, as I watch my stuff march its way out my door. Good-bye to dishes and pictures framed. Good-bye to bed side tables and blankets and books.
It is a peculiar feeling, and I wonder, could I have gone further?
Should I be tossing caution fully into the wind and whittle down to the barest of necessities, as if I were about to travel?
In a way, it is quite similar. I only know where I will be for a month but not beyond. I am still out of paying work, and must scramble for every little bit of everything.
It is intimidating. It is freeing.
It is a whirly twirly swirl of windy thoughts.
Blowing through my tired and hollowed mind and frame.
Good-bye to what was here and now is gone.