We are now 25 days away from our scheduled trip to Taiwan. I have packed NOTHING. If you know me, you know that this is completely out of character. I always do things as fastidiously as possible. I am a planner. So why the lack of packing?
I've gotten all of our luggage together and have pulled things out to start packing. But something has happened that I was not expecting. Every time I put out the bags and the space bags, I am overwhelmed by anxiety. I'm not scared, it is more like a scab is pulled off of a very deep wound. I am overcome by sadness. I think to myself, "How did we get out?"
What's even more funny is that the sight of the bags don't do it to me, it's the smell of the spacebags. I am flooded with the memories of having to pick what to take and what to leave. We left so much... my grandmother's blankets, the quilts that I made, clothes, shoes, toys. Ugh! Reliving it makes my chest heavy. The only slight relief that I get is in knowing that some of our stuff went to the refugees while others went to my good friend Manana.
There's a sore subject. I am a very reserved person. I have friends, but I am very reserved about making CLOSE friends. I am amazed that in the two months that I was in Georgia I was able to become so close to someone. She is now my family, a sister. In some ways, she is even closer than a sister. We keep in contact, but it is difficult. We were torn apart. Contact opens old wounds. It sucks. I will see her again. I look forward to that day.
So now I'm off to start packing some clothes. I figure it is a safe bet to pack the winter clothes. Floridian winter clothes. Is that an oxymoron?
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