For now, our house is in complete disarray. Completely my fault. Stuff everywhere. It's hard to clean when you don't want to put things away for fear you might forget to pack them, but you can't pack them yet because you might need to use them.
Meanwhile, I am trying to get everything together at work for a big move that will be happening over the summer. 15,000 library books have to be sorted into two groups and scanned. Then all the books need to be either boxed up for storage or put on carts and taken to the new, temporary library where they will go on shelves that will be moved only after the books are cleared off of them. The meticulous logistics are taking all of my mental energy. Plus, it all must happen before Wednesday because I have training to attend on Thursday and Friday. So when I come home, cleaning the house and packing doesn’t really feel like top priority.
I remind myself that none of it will matter in 9 days. In 9 days, I will get on a plane, having done all I could do; I will leave it behind and I will fly across the United States of America, pause (for several hours), and then fly across the Pacific Ocean, across the equator, across time, across more Pacific, into such a different and distant part of the world from any I have seen.
There have already been several moments where I’ve said goodbye to someone casually, and suddenly realized I was saying goodbye to them for longer than usual. It’s not uncommon for me to go a couple months without seeing certain friends, but knowing that the next time I see them, summer will be over, my time in Fiji will be over, and I will be coming back as a new person trying to re-acclimate into a life I often already feel discontent about … it adds an extra emotional layer to things.
I am so excited. I am also terrified, especially of how much I am going to miss those I love.
My fear of the unfamiliar is surpassed only by my fear of coming back in August and having to try to go on like normal.
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