At day's end

I have spent the day packing. I have bequeathed all of my belongings -- food, hanging files and file folders, my window fan and a floor lamp that I picked up from someone moving out of the dorm last December -- that I simply was not willing to ship home.

I got a ride to the post office, from a man with a truck, and suffered through an impatient postal service employee who didn’t really seem to understand that in that moment I was a good customer.

I was right, my two boxes had become six.

As they were piled outside of my room, I felt a real distance from those folks who are homeless or just happen to live in developing countries where stuff is a luxury that they do not afford. For as much as I barely packed anything for these 10 months in Berkeley, between book and folders full of weekly reading, my belongings have grown considerably.

I look forward to my ride to the airport tomorrow morning with my Aunt Irene, whom I had the pleasure of being connected this past 10 months. I will be happy to have my husband, Stephen, pick me up at Newark Airport, and transport me to the Upper Delaware. I feel conflicted that airplane travel is hard on our environment, and I am grateful that I will return to my home on the East Coast some 10 hours after I leave the West Coast. I can’t imagine the trip in a covered wagon or even a train --such is my attachment to my modern day living. But I know, now, that this modern-day living takes a huge toll on the animals and on other people and other nations.

There is a sense of sorrow in my awakening, and a sense of being totally present to my ability to hold that sorrow.

The journey continues. I will be happy to be home.