Tonight in the Art Gallery
I go home, knocking on my own door to let me in. A steady beat under my shirt, I enter. I am not sure what to do with myself, except smile and avoid those side-kick piles steep against my wall for one more night. I begin to think about cleaning my home, so I can prepare to pack up my life. It’s time to decide what goes into storage, what is given away, and what is to be recycled. It’s time to wash my walls of its herstory, my story built up from three years living here – four before I go. I pause realizing that all this time I have given myself to prepare for moving across the sea has done nothing to comfort the impetuousness in it all, but left room for the constant twitter of disbelief that I am really doing this. I am really doing this.
In the last week, I came full circle. Feeling unsure, a little isolated, and not knowing anyone the first month in school, I was considered a non-traditional student because of my age. I was one of four lesbians in the program. I was living alone. It just felt weird. That first semester was me just trying to figure out what I was looking for in this whole experience, besides the degree. Then, my own quirky self kind of just fit in. Labels were removed and I found myself being this self without apology or doubt. Time took care of the rest. I walked into my 30s during this time. Walked into an age that felt comfortable. I should admit, past 25, all ages feel comfortable. I said goodbye to so many these last few weeks. People who have shared in the blood, sweat and tears in this entire school thing. I already have coffee dates and promised guests for London. Already know I will see many again on this universal path. Knowing this circle does not end here.
Now, its time to stop, take out my yesterday from the pocket and place it quietly on the bedside table. Time to put away all these thoughts. Time to sleep before tomorrow.