I LOVE to pack. I do. Whether am packing up clothes after winter's over, packing for a trip or just storing away excesses- packing is F-U-N!
It could come from all the packing and unpacking I've been exposed to in my gypsy life. Having put down roots in a city for the 1st time in my life I don't get to haul out the suitcases, duffle bags since travelling's kept to a minimum. Not by choice though...some things play out this way.
While I was packing for a trip I'm going to be taking shortly, I could recall vividly that packing had always been accompanied with a sense of anticipation rather than just being a task that was necessary. Packing brought with it plans for a change of place and pace; meeting new people, reconnecting with old ones; a different experience if not an adventure altogether!
I packed with relief when I used to go home from college and the hostel for the holidays. With downright woe when I had to leave people behind and start off in a new place. With mixed feelings when I packed my bags before my marriage. With trepidation when I packed my hospital bag before I went into labor and with glee now that I'm packing for a beach holiday. Never mind that along with the fun will also go some odds and ends and plenty of 'just-in-case' stuff. But packing always signals the start of a new phase and I guess, having a largely home-bound life; I always welcome change.
And then comes unpacking. And with it comes surprises- pleasant and unpleasant. Gifts you bring back from trips, those special jars of yummies that accompany a kid staying in a hostel, spills of all conceivable kind, things that prove just how fragile they are and every other kind paraphernalia that we deem important enough to keep with us.
So this post has turned out to be an ode to packing...may I keep needing my suitcase more than just for it's annual trip down from the loft to change the Odonil cakes and naphthalene balls.
Amen.
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