With the final days of my final semester at LSU coming to hand and life continuing outside of campus, regardless of its finality to me, I've found myself fairly mentally preoccupied lately.
The trip and its implications are a constant whirlwind of words and notions in my mind. But, as I've stated before, that reality can be hard to keep a grip on. You find this clarity and acceptance and, true to clarity's nature, everything is clear. Easy. Calm. Anddd then it's gone. And you don't even notice it wave its little hand farewell and exiting, talking its calm with it.
Like for us gals...when you see that shirt. That shirt you haven't seen in 3 years plus change. And then one day you find it in the back of the closet, or stuffed in a shoe in a box in the attic with a picture of your cat and what might be a dried kiwi, or (more likely for me) the back of the trunk of your car. And ya never even knew it was gone. But suddenly, now knowing you've been without it, you feel that you've missed it desperately.
That's how the clarity of this impending occurrence hits me.
I was taking a study-break the other evening, and I opened the calender on my phone. Just meaning to play around...put some useless dates in there. I scrolled through the months, making my way to September. I counted 21 weeks. 149 days.
Seriously. There are 147 days now, existing between me sitting at this table. In this apartment that I've lived for three years. This apartment that I've become so comfortable with. The stability of it. The stability of exams. Knowing that 8/10 of the time, I can predictably find myself sitting right where I am now. With the same lights on, the same headphones in, same trees in my window view.
147 days between this moment and the absence of almost, almost everything I have known to be safe, predictable, and comfortable. Besides Chanel.
For toddlers, first starting to explore and to crawl, novelty can be frightening. So, they grow attachments with a "secure base". Someone they find to be a predictable source of comfort. Seeing them, means they're still safe. Because that person, will not let her stumble away into a darkness that would hurt her. While crawling, they look back to their caregiver for assurance of survival. Chanel will be my secure base. She is and will embody infallibility. She is home. We have each other and we will not falter.
Not that this phenomena ends with childhood. Change is hard, because change is unknown but, I must remember, change is necessary.
"I will bend like a reed in the wind." Thanks poppa :)
