"Her hands touch her childhood home in photos that she took. It's one more omission from a high school history book..."

I said goodbye to a dear friend yesterday. He's off on a three-year adventure to visit every national park in the United States. He'll live the whole time in a white van, though not exactly a nondescript one.

That's me putting the solar panels on it. I like this photo because
a) you can't really see me so my ninjatude is still basically intact and
b) I look like some sort of mantis who landed on the van from above. Carrying a power drill.

My own destinations are more subdued this year - Europe, grad school, beach - but the departure protocol is the same. I'm essentially moving out of my apartment and won't return for two months.

I'm actually getting worse at goodbyes. I used to ride out my lease, sell whatever car I was driving, and change my voicemail to "Please don't leave a message. I won't be back for a long time."
Now I'm walking from room to room and telling my apartment how much I'm going to miss it.

I was very methodical in packing. Now everything goes into the truck in reverse order. The suitcase I will live out of for a month of grad school, that goes in first. It'll sit there for ten days while I'm in Europe. There on top of it is the backpack for Europe. (See previous post. I left the leather bag in the apartment. Yeah, I might've told it I would miss it. So what.) Somewhere in there is the travel guitar.
The good guitar is on top of all that because it will come out of the truck at Mom and Dad's house and wait until I come back to go to the beach with everybody. Confused yet? It's a lot of logistics, I know.

Other items going to Mom and Dad's:
1. My laptop. It can't sit in a hot truck for ten days while I'm in Europe. I'll have to do without a laptop for the first two weeks of grad school and retrieve it mid-program when I come down for the Guns 'N' Roses concert. (See post, "Stairway to Kevin").
2. Trashy outfit for Guns 'N' Roses concert. I had to buy one special.
3. Two industrial garbage bags filled with hundreds of three-inch plastic balls to turn truck bed into ball pit for my niece and nephews.
4. Large jug with tap to make "spa water" at the beach or who am I kidding maybe we will dump a bottle of vodka, two bottles of champagne, and the juice from an entire watermelon in there and call it a day. I'm very popular with my family.

The camping gear can stay in the truck bed. I'll camp the first two nights near Boston before flying out to Europe, then again the last few nights of the summer. In between time I think they found me a dorm bed because I checked the commute from the campground and it's just too long.

The truck is ready, so I turn back to closing out the apartment. Shut the blinds and balcony door. Draw the curtains. Hop online to put a hold on mail delivery. Tape a spare key in a secret location at work in case somebody needs to get in. Lock the trunk containing twenty years of handwritten journals, in case that person does get in. Finish off all perishables in the fridge and turn the temperature up to 42. Empty both trash cans. Leave goodbye letters to family in prominent place in case of plane crash. Turn off the air conditioning. Take a last sip of coffee, put the cup in the dishwasher, and run it. Unplug all devices from every outlet in the apartment.

No wait. Better leave the TV and the DVR plugged in. I'll be away during Shark Week.

title credit the Weakerthans