Today, I am packing my life away back into the boxes that I moved here with. Yes, I'm moving out. No, I'm not moving away. I am only moving next door, to the vacant room that was once inhabited by one of my best friends. She has since withdrawn from the college, moved out, and has returned to Maine. Thankfully, she'll be back after winter break, to the Bay Area, living with her boyfriend (and subsequently mine) in San Jose.
I know I am only moving into the room next door, a larger space with a closet. Moving down from 3 windows to 2. Moving up to a larger space with more opportunity for the rearranging of furniture whenever I feel like it. But in a sense, I am still moving away. I've become content and familiar and happy in my space. Yes, it is small and difficult for change. But it is still my room. The move is for the better. No longer will I have to go out into the hallway to get clothes or other possessions from the outside amoires. It will all be accessible now.
It still feels odd, packing up my possessions when I should really be doing that mid-May. At least now, I will have a better sense of how long it will take me to TRULY pack when the time comes in six months.
Change of pace. This feels good.
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