The box was bigger than I expected and carrying it from La Poste back to my dorm in the rain proved to be quite difficult an endeavor. But I managed.The day before I had found a yellow slip of paper in my mailbox that said I had received a package. It was expected. What wasn't expected was my reaction - there was no rush, no sudden impulse to take the slip and run to pick up my package. Just a smile as I made my way from the mailbox to my room.
I've reached the point where I am no longer sure how I feel about anything. I've all but given up trying to analyze my feelings. So I'm not sure why the box made me so incredibly happy sitting there on my bed. I'm not sure why opening it made me sad. I'm not sure why, when the box was broken down and out in the trash, I wanted to remake my bed to get rid of the impressions where it had been.
I'm not sure about any of that.
What I am sure of is this: I received a box and now it is gone and now I am one day closer to going home and back to a life where there is no need for boxes and yellow slips of paper. And this makes me want to cry.
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