Monday, June 25, 2007

In My Father's House

My last morning in my father's house. Quite an alien feeling, to wake up to a room mostly devoid of all the things that made it familiarly "mine"-- the pictures on the wall, the bulletin board covered with snapshots, the carefully organized books, the clothes in the closet. All that remains is a pile of empty boxes/folders/mailing envelopes (evidence of my "stuff"-purges), some random things I didn't have the energy to appropriately place last night, and my overnight bag that will be stowed in the front seat next to me when I stop this afternoon at my aunt's house. My car is packed-- not exactly as full as it will go, but certainly as heavy. My Dad used his keen engineering eye to get it in the best possible way, then went to bed, leaving Jonathan (Suit) and me to realize that he didn't put any of my clothing in...so out half of it came, and we spent the next half hour maneuvering, sweating and just staring from the non-fitting-items to each other. "I assume you have a plan for that?" I asked him at one point as he heave-hoed. "Not really...." he answered. So we stared some more. Anyway we got it good enough. "Don't get in a car wreck" was his friendly advice to me. Yeah. As if I'd want to deal with ALL my stuff ALL over someplace. So I'll be driving safely. :)

So many thoughts as I've packed and sorted. A lot about the freedom that comes from SIMPLE living-- ixnay on the ack-ratingpay from here on out! ... a lot about how blessed I've been to be so surrounded by good teaching and by love fro my entire life. A lot about how weird a little kid I was. :) Creative, but also SUPER-attentive to detail, and slightly addicted to list-making.

I've left before, spent months or even years away from living under this roof. I've called all three bedrooms in this house "mine" at some point or another, and for a while got just the couch over breaks. But this morning is different somehow. I guess it's the knowledge that I won't be coming back-- not as Christina Maria Thompson, anyway. Oh dear, let's hope there are no tears today. I'm trying to save my breakdown for at least another few days. It's time for this arrow to be shot from the quiver. My parents have polished, straightened and sharpened it- me- for the past 21 years. They trust, and expect it to fly straight and true. May I make them proud!

The room grows brighter. It's getting lighter outside. Time keeps passing. I want to leave a clean room for my mama, which is why I'm up early. So I'll go to it then!

1 comment:

Ryan said...

Welcome home, darling. : )