Because I'm making a concentrated effort to get this blog back on schedule, I have neither the time nor the energy for anything profound tonight. Although, if you think hard enough about anything, there is probably something profound to be gleaned from it.
I'll leave that bit up to you.
In the last few hours, my childhood bedroom - and much of the surrounding house - has devolved into a swirling vortex of cardboard boxes and chaos. I guess I was not as prepared for the move back to school as I thought I was. But regardless of how much of a disaster it is .... tomorrow, we ride at dawn!
We being myself, my dad, and a minivan packed to the gills.
Luckily, this is only phase one. The plan this week is to move and assemble most of my furniture, and paint one of my new white walls a nice tumblr blue. Yes, I'm going to have a tumblr-esque accent wall in my bedroom. What? You've never abused the virtually-unlimited painting privileges bestowed by a well-meaning but oblivious landlord?
After a few days in my new house, I'll begrudgingly return to Privet Drive to finish up a few last shifts at work and pack up the rest of my things. And then, the countdown starts. As of Labour Day, I'll be living on my own - well not quite, but at least I'll be living with housemates who have seen every episode of Friends and use Harry Potter references in their everyday vocabulary.
Although this summer has been worlds away from last summer, in terms of, well, everything, I can't help but feel some familiar tugs at my heart while packing up.
The first time around, packing meant the end of an era, and knowing that nothing would be the same. It wasn't so much the fear of missing people and places as it was the fear of missing a time - a childhood summer is something that can never really be revisited.
This past week, the months of anticipation about getting back to Hogwarts, back to "my world", have started to give way to the suggestion of missing people and places here at home. Not a lot, definitely not a lot. A select few. (If I learned anything this year, it was that close friends are a quality-over-quantity sort of commodity).
And maybe it's living in a real house, paying rent and having a drivers licence, but I can't help but feel as though there is less and less tying me here. Honestly, I'm not sure I'll be spending another summer here. And that is both thrilling beyond belief and heart-wrenching to think about. Because while I have (almost totally) gotten over the romanticized teenage summer story, there are those few people, those places, that I just can't shake.
So, in summary: packing, moving, anticipating new and exciting things, and anticipating sad and heart-breaking things, but mostly being super freaking grateful that I have hella people to love (and people who love me) in a lot of places.
Goodnight, bloglings
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