When it was finally that time for me to move away from home to go to college in another town my dad and brother were there helping me stuff all my treasured belongings into my car and the family van. We stood around the driveway for a while trying to decide whether or not I really needed to take my bookshelf with me. I couldn't imagine where I would put all the many books I own without it, but I also couldn't see how we were going to get it into the van. I think after I showed how distressed I would be without it, my dad decided he would make this large belonging fit in the van. .
Once my possessions had made the long journey from my small Durango, Colorado home to the larger Boulder, Colorado, my mom and nana helped me to drag them out of the van and into my new house. Nana stood at the top of the stairs and would hand boxes and things down to us because she got worn out going up and down them too many times. I unpacked the boxes and arranged everything in my room until late that night, while my boyfriend laid on my new bed and told me if this or that was straight and if this or that looked okay next to this or that.
As I look around my room today I see the books I brought, the pictures, the little trinkets, my school stuff, the candles, my little boom box All my possessions, but none of those things are the real baggage that I brought with me. Not until I'd arrived at my destination and settled in a little bit was I able to begin writing and unpacking the real personal property that I had brought with me. .
See writing for me is one of those things that I have to do in order to get the material, that's buried deep inside my mind, out into the physical world. I write stuff down because I need to get it out. Sometimes I need to get it out because there's just nowhere else for it to go. Sometimes I have to put it all on paper so I can see it and process it or sometimes I put it on paper to show other people something.