Not the last day, but almost

He finds an old, used gym sock pressed into the back of his locker from the beginning of the year and his friends say "eeew" or feign nausea from what should be a putrid, caustic smell after such a long time in a cramped space and somehow isn't. Not long after, there is a squeak from the girl across the hall that turns into a grunt from one of the guys and then body after body begins to shake in laughter, not because it's quite that funny that there's a musty old sock now laying on the floor mid hall, but because they're all part of this experience and because they are losing something - each other. Laughter seems to creep in when there's no more to say about how sad it is to leave and to see you go and congratulations on the next thing. They are seniors in their last week of school at P.S. 555 cleaning out the remnants of left behinds that had insidiously crept in and made it more and more difficult to shove their books inside.
A girl finds a love note she wrote to a boy and never handed over and wonders whether she should just do it now because there's nothing to lose. She doesn't though, because what if she sees him this summer around town and it's awkward. She wants to enjoy any last glimpses she has of him before college without the intrusion of truth.

Oh but wait... none of this is happening now, to me at least, even though it feels like it. We were packing up boxes and putting things away today in my department as we are the first to go during the layoffs. There were no locker doors, but I could hear them. There were no dirty socks, but I could smell them. Well... perhaps those were my actual gym socks that are sitting underneath my desk. Anyhow, it almost felt bittersweet as I gathered up all of the trinkets I have received from my coworkers throughout the last three years. I moved all of the little toys and pictures to a single space on my desk and stared at them wondering what box I am going to store them in for years to come. When I will open it up to look and how I will feel.
It's common for me to wonder how I will feel in the future now. I never used to care but now I catch myself preparing for the sadness that comes from fond memories. It's safe to say that sometimes I don't enjoy fond memories because I begin to project the sadness that will come. It is likely I will keep the box sealed until I have forgotten the names of everyone I worked with, which means forever.
I haven't cried yet, but I know I will. The laughter has already begun because of the discomfort that comes with removing security. Like seniors, we are moving on and leaving each other unsure where we will be going next. I may not miss the job, but I will miss the people. I will miss the raucous laughter from the lunch room disrupting my concentration. I will miss the hugs, the conversation, and the bathroom peeping - haha.
I am ready to move on even though I will be sad when it's gone, but before I leave I look forward to uncovering anymore dirty socks.

Peoples plans a trip

Well... since I'm not using this blog for anything else these days, I am going to use it for my travel log. In a mere twelve days from now I will begin my journey overseas for the first time in my almost thirty year long life. First stop- London! Then I will be whisked away to Paris and then Italy. I am not sure what to expect at this point. People have said it will change my life, but will it? Will it change my life anymore than the time I went to Alabama and endured racism from both sides of the color line? Will it change me more than living in a latino neighborhood across the street from the Norteno's leader in my city. What exactly will it change about me and my character?
I have all of these questions about what will transpire and how my heart will come out afterward. Am I really prepared to do most of this alone? Some people have expressed their worry for me, that a girl shouldn't go alone. Ha, I am not a girl anymore. Even if my mind sometimes wishes to be that 8 year old girl being tucked into bed by her mother and made bacon and home fries for breakfast the next day. I am acknowledged everyday in the mirror by this woman that sometimes I don't even recognize. I recognize that she wants to go and go alone.
I remember my first "big" trip to DC when I was 17 and looking at colleges. It was initially supposed to be one that I got for finally losing enough weight to get me under 200lbs. Unfortunately, I was never able to make that weight but Riri and Raleigh took pity on me and decided that college was important enough to give up on their hopes of getting me healthy first. I savored that trip because of The Mall and all of the Smithsonians we were able to go to. I relished Washington Cathedral's nooks and art. I sat in the pews without knowing God and felt him there. I then made it my life's goal to Cathedral hop one day, to feel the burn in my skin as I took communion when I shouldn't have and cry again as I did staring at a painting of La Pieta.
I like to think of this trip as the present to myself that they were trying to give me back then. I turn thirty this May and for the first time in my adult life I am under 200lbs. I am the healthiest, happiest, and frankly the most beautiful I've ever been and am ready to be a part of the world. Yeah... maybe it took me this long to not be frightened anymore; to be confident enough to just leave.
I hope that my questions are answered by the end of this trip. I hope to find this elusive "change" that people talk about. I envision european romance that I'm sure to find in sideways glances and fleeting conversations, but nothing more. I remember all of the authors and their stories, Stein and Woolf and Nin. I want a story. I need a story.
Twelve more days and I'll be off to find one.