There are boxes in my room, some full and some empty, scattered methodically in nooks and niches as my life thus far unfurls in a seemingly explosive manner all over the bedroom floor. It's time for another edit session. It seems be easier this time. I think I am finally learning to tell the difference between excess baggage and invaluable memories. This constant editing session, both painful and relieving, is the final catharsis. As with all things living, there's intake and output; impression, expression; eat, poop; breathe in, breathe out.

David tells me that mom held onto him when she cried the night she stopped by when I was away. I am hoping those moments become fewer and less intense. But I suppose... a grown man of 27 is still a little boy in a mother's eyes. For someone of my age, the world seems a smaller, more accessible place. "It'll only be a few hours away by plane," I try to comfort. But to her, distance is measured by the amount of time she'll be able to see me, the amount of time she'll hug me, or cook me meals. As I visit home more often than I used to, I let her bask in the warmth of having family together, hopefully enough to last her a long while... until the next I return.

My flight is confirmed for the 14th for the left coast. A flight in which I will haul twenty seven years of life across the country, minus the odds and ends. However final the move, I will try to keep light on my feet but tread surely and boldly like I have before, wherever I end up. This is the jolt I have waited for in the past few years, and it's finally happening now. Ours is a generation unconvinced, until proven to us so, that the world is as big as it is small. So the curious and the thirsty must go seeking for more.

No goodbyes, no final farewells, just... see you soon.