Scraps of a Life

I’m packing. This is absurd. I just packed to come here and yet somehow I’m sifting through all of these things again. There’s new stuff here too:
-A business card from the Indian restaurant where Lindsay & I ate frequently.
-The brochure from La Cucharacha, an unfortunately named, but delicious Tex-Mex restaurant where Al, Lianne, and I talked endlessly about our futures.
-Programs & fliers from when the Hamilton College Choir came to Rome.
-Tickets from Tunisia, Sicily, & Florence
Then there’s all the stuff that doesn’t go in a scrapbook. I have a new addiction to “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”. I can make spinach lasagna with my eyes closed. I have GROSS feet from walking around the city. And I’ve lived in this cit y that has taken life out of me, put it back in and then shook me up completely, just for fun. The people I’ve met here…we have this bond now that’s different. Maybe it wasn’t a natural bond, but it’s definitely here now. I’m going to miss them & this.

Also my hair is really long and I'm sure my father will make some sort of hobo comment when I get home.