Packing

The dreaded thing, ugly and terrible. Tis a thing that can ruin the excitement of any journey, but it is also a necessary part of the ritual for the event that is travel. I am faced with the impossible; my entire material world must be squeezed, pushed, cajoled,beaten, and bribed into various containers of varying shapes, none being conducive to the actual form of anything I own. My hands reek of newsprint and my nose is considering filing suit against me for all the dust I have stirred into the air. In spite of my anxiety (how in Hades do I think all this gak is going to fit in one car?!?!), I am ready. Time to fly, to begin the next movement in this song. I have been singing it quietly in the recesses of my ribs for so long, and now it is time to let it rise a little higher. This song starts with the packing; a singular thrummmm that signals the onward motion. As I wander, I will write. This is a message, rather, an invitation. Please, join me in my flight.

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