Friday, August 22, 2008

Moving sucks

That has been the theme of everything this summer.
I'm sitting in a nearly empty room listening to music that reminds me of a year ago. This music is arriving in this empty room with boxes and hope, it is driving on 206 under a canopy of fall leaves, it is homemade mayonnaise and aperitif with olives and cornichons, it is red wine from Trader Joe's, it is a million late night conversations around the little table in the little kitchen, it is bug collecting, it is walking to the Writing Center on cold mornings and stopping to look at the green steeple of the red church through the branches of a yellow-leafed gingko. It is working all day, every Tuesday, drinking gallons of tea, in the warm, friendly office of the Writing Center, yapping with my new friends.
I wish (in a way) I had been more detached this past year - that I hadn't thrown myself head and heart first into would make this separation less painful. I made a ton of new friends, only to leave them, I formed routines only to break them.
I hope I make friends in Morristown, instead of having to wait until weekends to see my New Brunswick friends.

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