Compost Studios

Every muscle in her body ached, as if it were giving voice to her sadness.

She kept wiping her cheeks, blowing her nose

A pile of damp, crumpled Kleenex rose next to her laptop

She stayed in her pajamas until afternoon, and

Ate the last of the marinated olives and feta cubes.

She threw out the contents of the refrigerator.

In the kitchen , she left behind a non-stick griddle, nylon spatula, and plastic cutting board for the next tenant.

She tossed stained potholders, dishcloths, and a bevy of cleaning supplies.

She tucked the two mugs that belong to her into her suitcase.

She folded clothes into one suitcase and filled another with her Rolodex, boots, boxes of tea from London, socks, body lotion, shampoo, a hairdryer.

She wondered where to put her medical records. They wouldn't fit in her carry on and she was worried her checked suitcase would get lost. She's carrying mammography films that can't be replaced.

She has too many books in her carryon but she won't surrender even one of them. It's an 8-hour flight and she's not a one-book person.

She handwashed her favorite artsy sweater and set aside her black velvet jeans to wear while traveling, and then read it would be 72 degrees at her destination. Now she's wondering what to wear, and whether she can compress her white down jacket and push it in her suitcase.

She's not ready for warm weather.

She didn't call anyone, and watched her cell phone display, waiting for it to flicker off and signal the end of her contract in Belgium.

She read e-mails from Jason, Di, and Lynn and girded herself with their wise words and warm wishes.

She threw out a half bottle of shampoo and conditioner, a jar of face cream, a jar of body scrub, some shower gel, three containers of hand soap and every other toiletry that might add unnecessary weight to her suitcase.

She stacked up three spare rolls of Charmin for the next tenant.

She grabbed the paper towels to line the cat carrier with.

She knows good times are waiting in America, but right now all she feels is a sense of loss, of being untethered.

Tomorrow her journey back to the future begins. Everything's going to be fine, she tells herself.

Then she zips her suitcase and sighs.

March 13, 2008