Ballast

My bag felt heavy. I didn't want to go to school today any more than I have wanted to go every other day this week, this month, this year. The bag seemed a part of what was weighing me down this morning. It also seemed a way to work toward some relief. If I can just lighten the load a bit... I pulled out my folio and an extra book. That left my planner, a book, a writer's notebook, a folder of papers, and some assorted things in the bottom. I picked up the bag again. Still heavy. Too heavy.

I opened the folder full of paper I want to look at but haven't yet. Inside was a four-page list of writing ideas I have pretty much exhausted. Out with it. Two small cards listing books I might want to read came out along with a sheaf of papers listing ideas for new careers and pages about freelancing. I'll get to them later. Removing those few papers did little to relieve the weight but felt strangely good anyway.

At the bottom of the bag were loose things from the car I'm trading in today. I went through those but most of it remained in the bag to transfer into the new (used) car. None of it felt like much of a burden.

Cleaning out the bag, even just this little bit, had me feeling light enough to go into the school day. And I had the new car to look forward to in the afternoon.

I carried the bag to school, managed the last day before February break, and picked up my new (used!) car. When I tossed the bag into the passenger seat it felt as if it weighed hardly anything at all. And then I drove home to my family who came out to greet me and check out the car. I got out of the driver's seat and slipped the bag over my shoudler. My daughters checked out the car. My wife gave me a kiss. I almost reached for the door handle thinking that I just might up and float away.