Tomorrow, I leave on a three-week visit home for the first time in well beyond a year.
After an exceedingly dramatic afternoon trying to track down a re-entry visa and dinner, I started to pack: a tuba, a duffel, a backpack (that I want to keep but not necessarily with me) and a briefcase sized shoulder bag. It took half an hour, although the room-keepup around it took an hour plus.
How fascinating to find the notebook I was using when coming here--pages and pages of notes on what to expect, what equipment would meet those expectations, checklists for interview (PAH!), for personal comfort (DOUBLE PAH!) and job security (here I just choke).
Only one bag, the shoulder bag, is intended for a return trip. It holds Candid the iPad, my passport, a journal that came from Assisi, and a tube of toothpaste I've become fond of. Note: tuba; duffel with backpack, tent, books, and some souvenir whatnots; backpack with some delicate/to-be-preserved insulation, a few presents, and medications, are not intended for a return.
Otherwise, I plan on bringing back new socks and boxers (each of which cost twice as much as they do stateside and last two months at best) and some scans of kids' books (think: Hand Hand Fingers Thumbs). And a harp.
It would be nice to buy some new pants, but they don't make pants my size, and if I bought a pair even close to fitting, my goal would be to outgrown them as soon as possible.
What's fascinating is to contrast the person who spent more time creating interrogative/dubious lists than it took me to pack, all told.
And what I wonder is which, if any, monkeys will find purchase .
No comments:
Post a Comment