Take Off
With the beautiful and frightening idea of moving my mind has been a constant hundred-mile an hour cluster of what it would be look. How exhilarating to leave behind everyone I know- the world I hate so much yet lean on out of knowing familiarity. So, if I were to have to leave tomorrow (from a perfect job opportunity or the shear inability to
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I've found that once you pack up and go to a new place, it gets easier to keep on keeping on. But you acquire people and pets and things along the way. The things are never important, though. You can always have another yard sale.
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By Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something everyday. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing further, losing faster:
places and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
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