Photo by Tobin

“What happened to all your stuff?” my roommate asks after I open my bedroom door.

“Sold,” I reply simply.

Little by little I have been selling off many of the things I own, watching as they slowly dwindle in number.  I feel freed, I think.  Every now and then, I get the simple urge to rid myself of various things, picturing in my head a reptile shedding its skin and starting anew.

That’s me, I say to myself.  That’s what I’m doing now.

I take photos, post ads, open the door when strangers arrive to take away the things I used to live with.  My room starts to look more and more empty.  The walls return to their bare and natural state.  The corners and windows uncovered and naked.  The transformation, a stop-motion video.

In three weeks I’ll board a five-hour flight across the country.  I’ll have checked in one large suitcase and one smaller suitcase containing clothes and a few keepsake items I’ve refused to let go.  I’ll spend five minutes questioning the purpose and actions of my life and four deciding whether or not I should call my parents.  I’ll opt not to.

I’ll buy a ginger ale at the airport stand and some pretzels for the flight.  I’ll walk through the gate briskly, my boyfriend keeping pace behind me.  In our seats, he’ll look at me, raising his eyebrows as he reaches his hand out for mine, wiggling his fingers until I stop rolling my eyes and smile.

You know, it’s just that right now, at this moment, this thing feels right.  Everything feels right.