Packing

I packed to move houses to a better school district when I was 13. I packed to leave for college when I was 17. I pack up every summer to move home to relax from the stresses of university. I packed to come to Denmark.

As I must choose to throw out clothes, and prioritize my life I am faced with all sorts of petty but real problems. If I toss out half my socks, do I throw out the old ones from America that are white and end before the ankle? Or do I throw away my black Danish socks that end a noticeably 4 inches higher but look better over black tights. What about my wool winter socks? They are cozy and warm and I got them in Holland, but they are heavy and bulky and will it ever really be cold enough to wear them in California? What am I going to wear next year? My boots and mini skirt combos might make me look trashy in American eyes, but don't they understand that it's okay to wear mini skirts in the snow as long as your tights are thick enough? I will have no snow! What do I do with my hats and gloves? What do I do with a dress that I have worn once or twice this year, but know I usually wear every week in California?

As I sit here in literally a mound of clothes and a pool of tears I realize why this time packing is so much worse. I do not see going home as an adventure. Going home is something I am being forced to do. There is no nervous excitement wondering what awaits me. As hard as I try to focus on my family, my friends, my car, all the great things waiting for me at home, all I can think about is the pain that I have experienced at home. I can only remember who I was. I think I am great now, but what if I disappoint the people at home? I have not written letters, I don't have gifts for everyone, I barely can bring myself to get on the plane and all I can think about is how happy I am here and how the people waiting for me know the flaws of my past. I get anxiety thinking about seeing people that I should be thrilled about. What if people notice I have gained weight? What if I didn't get a present for someone who was expecting one? What if I got someone the wrong present? What if the children I worked with forgot me? What if my little cousins forgot me? What is my friends forgot me? What if I didn't change as much as I thought I did? What if I fail at being American? And the anxiety over seeing people that I should be less than thrilled in seeing is even worse...

I just spent the most fabulous day in Sweden with a girl who I think really understands me and has become one of my best friends. I should feel surrounded by love and hope for the future, but really all I can think is this: I do not want to go home.

The things I want to pack are entirely impractical. I want to bring home a suitcase filled entirely with bread and desserts. I want to fill a suitcase with things like my candles that I had not finished burning, and my "I can draw magical princesses" children's activity book. I want one full of Danish men. I want to squeeze some forest into my carry on and check squeegee broom as oversized luggage. I want a suitcase full of the language, and another one full of hygge. I can't possibly pack a suitcase with what I want to take home with me in it.