My sister told me the story of one of her friends who could pack his entire life into a box; she greatly admired him for it and is currently trying to prune her own life of the unnecessary. It certainly is a thought-provoking idea and I am all for abandoning a conventional life of materia, but I find myself moved by a restless burst of independence--I am trying to nest, to gather about me my belongings in hopes of grouping them into something I can call my home, or rather 'my place' and arrange things therein as I want them.
I have been moving about so constantly over the past few years that I grow rather tired of that unsettled feeling. As I am quickly approaching the end of my stay in Amerikat, my thoughts turn constantly to 'the next location,' and even the things here--my half of the dresser, my desk--covered by my stuff and so obviously declared as belonging to me are beginning to have that accusatory look of 'not-mine-ness.'
This, my wise friend Natalie informs me, is a good thing; it shows that I have completed this stage in my life--clearing the level, defeating the boss--and I am ready to throw myself into the fray of new things.
Now all I have to do is finish well.