I took the long route

Aug 21, 2004 07:58

A letter...

I wonder why the air's so sticky; my mom told me in Khmer that the sky wants to keep me home. I wonder what's it like for people who have no sense of home - the emptiness must be so accurate, it cuts your skin like a knife. I haven't been able to pack, because clothes from years ago are dragged up, from the depths of my receding closet and the bellies of drawers I've never opened. Feeling the textures of a wool sweater I wore when I open my acceptance letter to Vassar, the jeans stained with paint from a long, extensive art project I've never finished, and photographs - why do I keep photos hidden like that? - of friends I swore I'll never forget, the friends that shaped and molded me, and the few friends who were friends in name only. Packing has been hard for me, because I can never finish it. My mind wanders -- I wander. Its so definite that I'm gone in a matter of days (Two to be exact). I'm leaving Boston at 6 AM, Monday morning. I wish I could write eloquent words about how I'm feeling but I can't.

~Kim
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