Preparing to Travel

I look at the corkboards, the stapler, the speakers, the copy of Born to Run, the red coat, and the yellow Moroccan bowls. I know I can’t take them with me. I look at the unifinished comics about a bike ride through Vancouver, the unfinished paintings of miniature roses, and the reminder to send Abderrahim some writing for our art collaboration. I know that it’s too late to devote time to these projects. I see Kath for the last time and we don’t know how to say goodbye, because “goodbye” is so quotidian. Kai and Robin text me to say it anyway. Liam comes by to say it in person. My brother calls and adds, just before the hang-up, “I love you.” Unexpected verbalizations of feelings and opinions slip past the lips of friends and acquaintances. I eat my last meal. I take my last bath. I have bouts of joy and bouts of fear. My mother might start crying at any time.

Preparing to travel is like preparing to die.