Spring cleaning and movin' on out

I'm heading home tomorrow for the weekend so tonight I'm packing up some duffel bags to make 'moving day' less of an ordeal later next month. As I stuff clothes I never wear into my old camp bag turned university bag I come across other random pieces of memory that make me reflect on my four years at McMaster.

A wrinkly piece of masking tape remains tightly adhered to the fabric of my bag. On it is written in green marker "302A Woodstock". My address from first year residence. I remember arriving in September after an entire summer of speculating about my soon-to-be roommate D'Arcy. What was with the apostrophe? What kind of girl would she be? Would we get along, or would she bring people into the room in the middle of the night when I was sleeping to listen to me snore? She was late to arrive on move-in day and I was dying with curiosity. We finally met and compared taste in music. Four years later we are preparing to leave for Korea together.

A post-it note in my now empty bedside table drawer has "Michael" and a phone number printed carefully in blue pen. I remember writing it down. Beside it is his sloppy cursive in thick black pen. It reads "loves you (so much!)" Funny how changed sentiments remain printed and permanent. Something about that makes it difficult to throw away.

Also on the same subject, a folded piece of lined paper with a torn off corner has typical time-wasting doodles; my name written in a variety of styles scattering the page, along with my name and his name, his name and my name. Our names. Please join Michael and Jessica G... His writing and mine, both practicing what we thought would be. Two years later and there's nothing to be said.

And finally, in a mint green cosmetics bag that my father got on a plane flight to Japan I find reminders of the summer. The obscure silver ring missing its stone that I bought with Wendy from Dan, I think his name was, the antique Jeweller in Jaffa. I think it cost me sixty shekels and the blue stone fell off sometime during a drunken escapade with Stefan in the cockroach infested alley. Also, my tiger-eye anklet that was made in the back of a shop in the market in Old Jerusalem. We sat in the back of an Arab's shop drinking Turkish coffee and beading. I forget his name now. He fell in love with Wendy and then ripped us off royally with cheap stones. I like mine a lot. Wendy's conveniently broke three times so she had to return to get it fixed. Those moments on our trip were the ones that I will never forget. Sitting with people experiencing their lives. Shelling shrimp for a wedding, drinking coffee on the floor, listening to old friends reunite... it's those genuine experiences that affect me so profoundly. Seven months later and I'm a more complete person.

Better keep up the packing.