The calm indifference with which I have been approaching this latest lifestyle upheaval has been drastically pierced by the reality of leaving my beloved homestead this morning. (We are heading down to San Jose for a few nights, to visit friends and family, say our good-byes, and to eat as much Mexican food as I can stomach.) Today, the weight of separation seems tremendous as I look around my house, lovingly worshipping the banal details of my daily existence here. Waking, I savor the warm softness of my sheets as I gaze out at the rosy morning sun seeping into the valley over Mount Lassen. Sipping coffee by the woodstove, my cat purring in my lap, I kiss her hard, imprinting the memory of her supple fur indelibly on my brain. A cold mountain wind rushes through the pines, briefly drowning out the roar of the rain-swollen creek, and I strain my ears to capture the melody so that I might sing it for comfort when I find myself flabbergasted by the strange changes that are to come.
It is in the middle of these fits of sentimentality that I am overwhelmed with self-doubt and apprehension. What am I doing? What am I leaving behind? What am I facing? What should I bring?
Well, the rest of the house is awake now, invading my musings on my misgivings and disrupting my sentence structure. There is no more time for wallowing in worry…I have to go pack!
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