The weekend.

I’m leaving today. In fact, I really ought to be packing right now, because we were supposed to be leaving in about an hour… that’s clearly not going to happen. First, we’re going to Redwood City, then tomorrow, we move my stuff into the dorm, go to the Outside Lands Festival, and then await the inevitable hour where my parents have to head home without me.

My dad is flipping out right now; my mom is in denial, and so am I. I’m certainly not in the same place I was last year, because the sheer terror is gone, but I still feel that sense of dread at leaving everything that is familiar and comfortable.

As of tomorrow, there will be no more Anthropologie days. No more walks to the Ocean Avenue coffee shop. No Osio movies with Steph. No creeping by Robert Talbott to see if Allie’s there. No lunches at Thea’s Deli with my dad, talking about politics. No cuddling with my mom and my pets on the bed, watching a dumb movie. No more 7-1 shifts at the coffee shop (thank God!). No more Colleen appointments. No more Deborah sessions. No more Mad Men. No visiting Kindah at Diamond Horseshoe. No Del Monte run-ins. No beach excursions with Andrea. No bonfires. No Bahama Billy’s lunches. No Tablemate gatherings. No more mooching for rides (thanks Erin, Thea, Kristin, Corynn, and obviously, my parents). No more Project Runway with my mom. No more Brigitta, or Gail, or Taylor, or Melissa, or Laurie, or Holly, or Analis, or all the other Anthro girls. No more driving down Carmel Valley Road. No more concert trips with Kindah. No more ordinary, boring days spending time with my parents, friends, pets, and others whom I love.

I live in one of the most beautiful parts of the world, and that makes it pretty hard to leave. But to me leaving is more than just physical separation–it’s a change, an ending, and a new development in my life. And while those are both necessary and good, a considerably large part of me would rather just stay in the Valley.


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