In August 1977 I took my suitcases and left home to go out on my own.I said I'd be gone a few months and now it's 33 years.
I never meant to stay away.
I guess I didn't get around to grieving because I always meant to go back.
This move is good-bye for real.
It's the end of an era.
Things happen like that now. When you travel, you are no longer walking along--or even looking out of the car window to see the landscape gradually changing and your brain arrives when your body arrives.
Now-a-days, you get in a plane in cold Calgary, watch a movie, eat an airline dinner, hang around in an hermetically sealed airport and step off the plane in warm Caracas.
Your brain hasn't processed where you are yet, never mind where you are going.
The packers are wrapping it all up so fast.
The brain doesn't have time to actually disconnect or say goodbye, projects I didn't finish are given away.
Items I collected ages ago for some important reason I no longer remember are abandoned.
In times like this I remember that God meant us to invest all our time and energy in people and not be cumbered by THINGS.
