The Junk Drawer

Ah... the ubiquitous junk drawer. Grocery lists, a small key (to what? the bike lock or the filing cabinet?), a hastily scribbled post-it note with a reminder to research chemical free sunscreen, an ad ripped out of the community newsletting for "clothing alterations, call Mary". It's easy to purge these items. Yet I sift carefully because suddenly, shuffled between a photocopy of a shared lottery ticket & a check-up reminder for the dentist, I come across a goofy photo of my younger self with a friend. A ticket stub to the Il Divo concert mom & I attended, where we heatedly debated which of the four men was sexiest. And the library check-out list with an emphatic circle around the name of a book "Listening Below the Noise - Anne LeClaire" (brilliant!).

The reasoning behind the junk drawer is, for me, two-fold. First of all, everyone needs a junk drawer (where else do you keep batteries, twist-ties & extra fridge magnets?) But the other reason is I can store things that, at the moment, have no real home, until they make their way into an album. You see, the whole plan was that eventually, I'd stop procrastinating & start scrapbooking! I remember how, as a kid, I loved looking through photo albums or scrapbooks filled with art projects, Valentines & report cards. To document my adult life, however, all I have are assorted journals with a couple entries, usually dated my birthday or New Years, as I tend to forget about my good intentions.

Sorting the junk drawer has reminded me that my life has been rich & full. Looking back fondly on years past is a way to try to temper my impatience with how long the countdown seems to be taking. I just want to get on a plane & start exploring. It seems like I'm in a weird sort of limbo - I'm here, in body, but my heart & soul & mind are already abroad. Here's another thing: if we weren't going to travel in 5 months, I would have enrolled in continuing education at the university for work. I would be taking music lessons or planning my garden. As it stands, I feel like all I'm doing is waiting. It's not worth starting any projects, there's not enough time. Twenty-two weeks until the beginning of August, when we're tentatively slated to depart. I'm trying to keep in mind that even though time seems to crawl, and work feels mundane, I'm earning my travel freedom right now. It's all part of the process. I need to live in the moment. Which is easier said than done.