Hatched

I nest.

Every day a new cupboard, a new shelf to clear and clean. Bags of recycling and trash build up in the hallway, every thrown out piece lightens my load. I am preparing this home for a rapidly approaching day, when 20-something is over and a new decade begins. The scent of household cleaner and symmetric order my only crutches in navigating the process of acceptance ahead. These are the terms of service you agree to when you choose to live. The years will pass, regardless.

We stood outside the bar when she saw her friend. His grandparents were visiting from Australia, doing a tour of the various grandchildren and great-grandchildren scattered around the other side of the world. We were impressed by their coming such a long way, but the colder the evening grew, the more we learned of their years past. Of eating whale meat in Barrow, Alaska, of skinny dipping off the Great Barrier Reef, of all the stories that make up a life together, and a life in the world. Their eyes sparkled at the memories; I saw 50 years of travel in me yet.

Perhaps the cleared closets aren't so much for order and control. Perhaps shedding the heavy trinkets of a life in stability will simply make it that much easier to soar.