Three months ago I was nervously sitting in my parents’ house, sorting through my possessions, trying to decide what was worth hauling half-way ‘cross the States and into Canada. Now, as I sit in my little room on the corner of East 18th Avenue, I can see piles of things I needn’t bother bringing along to Vancouver. It seems my clutter has followed me to Canada, literally and figuratively. Besides the piles of unopened mail, unread books and not-quite fitting clothes, I have brought my piles of bad habits and unopened issues. Correction: some of those issues have been peeked into, but not dealt with, thus they may as well be ‘unopened.’ As a criminal always returns to the crime scene, I always return to my habits, no matter how far away I move. It is comforting in a way, to know that when I come home at night my procrastination, self-doubt, poor self-image are still there, right next to the pile of jeans that I was only able to fit into for two months.
Someday, I think I will fit into those jeans. And someday, I’ll open the mail. And when those miracles meet, I will surely have at least tidied my messy emotional matters.
…Of course, by the time I get around to it, the mail will be beyond dealing with and the jeans will be out of fashion…
