Anthology #3

Note: This was written over a period of months, from August to December, 2019 — and coinciding with a number of changes: my family’s move to a new house, a new year, and a new period of life in Senegal.

In my mind's eye
     This almost August day
A red brick dormitory looks on watchfully
As my family and I share one last 
     teary embrace

The clock is tick-tocking
    On due dates for French papers
    On summer days spent in canoes
      with tan arms, redder knees,
      and a new kind of meaning to the word
              work
    And on the wrap-up to another year
        To sophomore year
Bringing forth memories fresh as a hot press
Fragrant stamps of ink glistening
            off wet pages

Soon will mark a new year of change
Push-pulling like long strings of uncut taffy
     Two years now thick and well-kneaded
On what I've known versus
     What is to come

Several days later
    And I find myself picking up 
        an older stack of papers
                  tinged with yellow
    Moistening the pad of a finger
    And leafing back
                  a little ways
    Thumb landing squarely on the
       give-away inkmarks of home
                  No
    Not that of steadfast red brick
    Nor fifth floor overlook

But that of an older stone and mortar
    Where the dishes pile equally
          to the dustmites
    And the third stair down 
          always creaks
    Where milk-white cartons of take-out Thai
          rest on the stovetop
    And muddy cleats dry under
          hodge-podged galleries of childhood art

One's home is a funny concept
      "Omw home soon!"
    Is a text with dual meanings
         Taffy-pulled between dual worlds
              Now

But with each time
Those words so refer
    to an apartment 513
    to the tail end of long returns
        on wheels and rails
    and the quiet pause
        before key slides into tumblers
I take a moment's reflection
    over the great fortune
    of the life I've carved myself
        out of raw clay

Just like I am here
    Five months now removed
From that almost August day
Quite an anthology at this point
    without a doubt
Sophomore year signed and shelved
    and another fall passed

One in which
      tans faded and breath froze
      the northwoods were my classroom
        as teacher and student
      Outdoors Club became a greater responsibility
        and greater passion
      and I took leaps and bounds as a leader,
        writer, speaker, facilitator, roommate,
        friend, young adult, cook, reader, wonderer
            and wanderluster... 

I'm three weeks away
    From the most incredible adventure
                             leap of faith
                             learning experience
                             growth period
                             away period
                             novel period
    of my existence
    on this random blob of spacedust

Which will mark once again
    a continuum-jump between homes
But this time literally
    the opening of one front door
    and the closing of another

Looking around my suddenly barren
    long-since well-worn bedroom
Tetris blocks of moving boxes
    dotting the floor
        in expectant stacks
I know it'll hit me hard
The all-too-soon day
    I walk my bags
          my memories
    and myself
          out of this house
    one last time...

I'll be off and away
    as will our family
Onto life's next volume
Glistening ink sure to be as fragrant
                and bold
As those well-thumbed
      yellowing pages
                of old

It's Senegal's turn to call
No different really
      than a northwoods tent
             Middlebrook Hall
                Apt. 513
            or lifelong bedroom

I'll be welcomed
    with new smiles + arms + warmth
    into someone else's 1512 E. Olive St.
And that's all I could really
        ever ask for...

New homes
          Old homes
Ever-twining
          and dearly held