After the lunar eclipse, I gathered all of my luggage in my closet, found ten trash bags and started to pack all of my belongings. There were items in my closet that I hadn’t worn since college. I had trinkets that I collected from past relationships, holding onto their fragility and imperfections. I tossed shoes so worn down that I paused and recounted all the steps I took in them. I stripped down my shelves, removed pictures and thirteen-year old clay molds from classes I took in New York, and found postcards with sweet notes from dear friends. When I finished and witnessed my bedroom naked with no proof of life lived or love made, I settled in my reality that while this will be my first home; it will not be my last.
cleaning out
cleaning out
cleaning out
After the lunar eclipse, I gathered all of my luggage in my closet, found ten trash bags and started to pack all of my belongings. There were items in my closet that I hadn’t worn since college. I had trinkets that I collected from past relationships, holding onto their fragility and imperfections. I tossed shoes so worn down that I paused and recounted all the steps I took in them. I stripped down my shelves, removed pictures and thirteen-year old clay molds from classes I took in New York, and found postcards with sweet notes from dear friends. When I finished and witnessed my bedroom naked with no proof of life lived or love made, I settled in my reality that while this will be my first home; it will not be my last.