Five Weeks and Counting

by annie

Unbearable instrumental remakes of cheesy 80s classics, almost unidentifiable, blare in my ear as I desperately wait for a pharmacist to pick up the line. This is probably my sixth call to Kaiser in the last month, a sure sign that I'm making my way through the pre-trip checklist. I underestimated the amount of time, money and energy required for long-term travel preparations, but I'm getting the idea pretty quickly now. While I wait, I mentally review a few things on the list: buying new glasses, a backpack and sleeping bag, enduring vaccines, considering supplements, downsizing to 20 pounds of belongings, quitting jobs, deciding on shoes, and so on. I haven't even touched the emotional list yet, like saying goodbye to people I love.

God, if they're going to play renditions of mass marketed 80s memorabilia, they could at least include the lyrics.

To distract myself from it, I take stock of our apartment. "Organics to You" boxes sit randomly on the floor, on chairs and on each other, all overflowing with books, clothes, shoes, oh, and one actually still has veggies inside. Blue and green sticky notes with random lists of things to do claim any and every blank horizontal and vertical surface. Empty backpacks sit slumped on the floor, waiting for trial jaunts. We are collecting things in piles to give away en masse. We hope to make a bit of money along the way, but "everything has to go!" It brings the term "liquidation" to home, literally.

I try not to think about what it will be like to start all over, once the traveling is all said and done. As far as belongings go, I won't have much to come back to, just a few boxes and suitcases. That's how I want it to be. I hope whenever I do return, I'll view my meager collection of possessions as an invitation to create something fresh and new and exciting. Because that's what this is all about now: I'm cashing in my lifestyle for something different and better and ripe with possibilities. I'm starting over now to give myself the chance I need to become something different, without answering to the conventions of modern life.

I have wild hopes for these travels and I plan to realize them fully. When I return, I'll be ready to begin again. But for now, "Thank you for calling Kaiser Permanente. May I have your health record number please?"