Sometimes it feels like I’ve been living out of a suitcase for my entire life.
I just got home from traveling and I’m making one final trip out to my truck to grab the last of my stuff. Sweat’s beading off my neck and down my back, but my ankle’s holding up surprisingly well, given the stuff I’m lugging upstairs.
I like coming back to my own space.
When I was a kid, I was always on the move. I always seemed to have a rotating collection of extra stuff, too. Like, going to school wasn’t just going to school—it was going to school with my backpack full of books, my saxophone, a gym bag for football workouts before and after school. On the weekends it might also include a duffle to go to my dad’s house, or a boot-bag and my snowboard gear if we were going to my grandparent’s place. I never unpacked. My mom did. My cousins did, too. Not me.
Today, though, it’s just my work backpack and a carry-on sized suitcase. Maybe I should add “strategic packing/unpacking skills” to my resume...
As I close the door behind me, I immediately reach for the AC and come to a stop in my entryway. I suck in a huge breath and shake my head. I’m trying to drop my shoulders and grimace at how little they move. Until recently, I’d always thought of myself as someone who thrives in transition. Exhaling, I’m reminded that I’m just someone who’s learned how best to endure it.
And that’s not the same thing.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
302/365
Are you someone who thrives in transition or someone who just survives it?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory.
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