I leave at 7:30 pm tomorrow, which is today, really. I lay over in O’Hare and leave at 1 am. Thursday mostly doesn’t happen for me and I get to Incheon at 4am on Friday. Mañana got away from me; I’m sorry Hillman library-ites that I never came back to say goodbye. This afternoon I was laying on the floor in my hallway in denial. The degus looked at me like ‘if you’re not going to feed us then why are you down here?’
After putting enough things in my backpack to assure myself that it is possible that I will finish packing, I went to Mount Washington to watch the fireworks with people I know, people I didn’t, and people I still don’t. The fireworks were conveniently half-concealed by a tree and although the song has nothing to do with any wars in which America took part, the grand finale went off to the 1812 Overture including several bars of the French national anthem. I and Lauren and Sarah and Shuler and Bill and John drank the Wine of the Holy Land that I had gotten for $5 in the duty free shop in Jordan. I ate enough club crackers to forget about dinner. Minus the traffic coming off the mountain and accidentally crossing the river on the way to the South Side, I couldn’t have asked for a better send off.
Don’t think I’m not still in denial. I am never again going to sit in my parents living room and watch prime drama with them at the age of 22 and I will never again physically see my sister at the age of 19. Inshallah I shall never again live in my parents’ house. These are facts I cannot comprehend and If I didn’t have a sock to finish so that my last act can be sending Milie a care package, I’d go back to laying in the hallway.